Shattering the glass ceiling

Hello All, 

And so the moment has finally come. No not the lockdown ending (although I won't lie, that is certainly peaking my mood), no not the fact I am less than a day from my pork scratching advent calendar and no not the fact that I am less than a few days away from seeing my nail lady for my Christmas inspired tallons. No. Now is the moment we discuss moving on ... 

Arriving at work, it suddenly hit me that this was it. There were no second chances and that once it was done there was no turning back. Up until getting out of my car that crisp Tuesday morning last week it hadn't even really seemed real. But now it was very real. The next time I stepped into my car the dynamics would have shifted and all would have been laid bare. I was nervous. Trying to think of the perfect moment was awful. I mean I had some time to think since it had nearly been a fortnight. Nevertheless, I thought I would let management grab a coffee and settle into emails before telling them my news. 

But then started the normal morning rush and before I knew it lunchtime was upon us. After telling a few close colleagues I knew I had to seize the moment and if not now then when. And so, alone in a quiet meeting room I slid the white envelope across the desks (you know COVID-safe and all). Smiling, my manager asked what it was. I explained as best I could without taking up any more of his valuable time although I felt as though I was rambling and not really making much sense. I blathered on about this and that but when it really came down to it, what was there in his hands was quite simply the final nail in the coffin. My resignation. 

I joined the company over four years ago and in that time life had changed immeasurably. I had got Clifford, my big red car after my beloved Vivienne was written off. I have gotten engaged and planned a wedding. I got my best ever freebie, my little pup Frankenstein. I even managed to get myself on the property ladder after years of wondering and dreaming about if it will ever happen. Yes, there had been many a happy time shared amongst my office space and colleagues. However, in recent months and even going back as far as last year, I have not been happy. 

Standing there in a silent meeting room with my manager I explained that it was a decision I had made not lightly, given the situation the team would be left in and considering the pandemic. But I knew in my heart of hearts that now the wheels were in motion I couldn't turn back now. Who knew that walking through those doors all those many moons ago that I would not only acquire the skills for dealing with difficult customers and colleagues but also that I would learn things about myself, my values and my value to others. 

I never expected that I would get a taste for anything more than just a job to pass time and fill up the years before I settled down to have children. I know now that I want more than that for myself and my future. I want to have a job my children can be proud of, doing something that I am good at with people whom I enjoy being around. But there is more to life and I needed to spread my wings and fly off for a new adventure. 

So where am I going and what is next?! Well, following a successful interview I had a phone call one Friday morning before I started work. Switching on the grinding coffee machine in the office kitchen I listened to the voice at the end of the phone tell me the news I had been hoping for. I had bagged the job. But which one? I remembered interviewing for the job, but couldn't find anything on my emails as I desperately scanned through. The lady explained she would send everything over and looked forward to working with me soon. 

The following week I finally received all the finalised paperwork, information and new starter forms. Working normal office hours I will instead be heading in the opposite direction to the other half in the mornings come the new year and into the hustle and bustle of Milton Keynes. Along with the normal benefits package the offices are super easy to get to and is right by the lake, so the "healthy-me" is thinking it would be a great idea to invest in a bike or for a walk or maybe even a run (haha) around the lake maybe two or three times a week. The "fat-me" thinks about all the amazing places I can order food from in the city and how it will be delivered to me by a man on a bike or even better - A robo-delivery-box-a-mijig! 

To say I am excited is putting it softly, but despite my enthusiasm, my heart still aches for my situation and the reasons which have lead me to where I am now. I hope that one day I can talk openly about them, however as most of you know who have been reading along for a while now (can you believe it has been nearly TEN YEARS!) I don't talk about work or employment and keep them and blog very distance. 

And so I suppose this is probably the most honest or open I have ever been about my work-life, but with the next few weeks until Christmas laying ahead of me, things are changing all the time and who knows what curveball or spanner will be thrown into the cogs of my life next ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Fear is interest paid on a debt you might not owe

 Evening All, 

And so it has happened. I mean it is not like I knew it wouldn't, it is written into my contract. It is pretty unlikely that things would not have gone back to more of a normality, or whatever this new bullshit is now especially since shops are now open not to mention the restaraunts and pubs as mentioned last week. But as I sat in the hairdressers today on my day off, scrolling through my social media pages, flooded with back to school pictures, the anxiety I felt peaked. Why? Because tomorrow is my first day back in the office.

Week number seventeen and whilst the virus has no end in sight yet, we are being told from media outlets and Government alike to 'Get back to work'. On 17 July, Boris Johnson announced that from 1 August the Government’s advice for England on going to work would be changing and instead of telling people to work from home where possible and if they can to contain and cntrol the virus, employers were given more discretion and in turn asked the country to return to work safely. Workplaces up and down the country started to make decisions about how staff can work in a clean and COVID-secure enviroment. 

"Whatever employers decide, they should consult closely with their employees, and only ask people to return to their place of work if it is safe" said the Prime Minister. However, on 31 July following some local outbreak of the Coronavirus in the Midlands and North West, the postponement of some planned lockdown easing in England had to be halted and ergo the 'Back to work' chants. Since then the Government have updated the 'Working safely during coronavirus' guidance, but with the changes to the relaxation of restrictions and the potential for regional restrictions to be put in place should a spike appear continuing, is it sensible for businesses to consider beinging staff back, even on a part time basis? Everyone will need to have the capability to move quickly from one scenario to another as local lockdowns and quarratining from foreign countries changes by a daily, sometimes hourly even basis. 

This virus is still out there and figures from the BBC released today (Monday 07 September 2020) confirm that whilst the number of new cases of coronavirus is continuing to rise, the death rate is just 3 in the last 24-hour period; A stark cry from the blog post I wrote my first few weeks working from home in late March when the figure was already at over 1,400 which has already been dwarfed by the 41,500 deaths the nation has seen and it is still being added to. Prime Minister Boris Johnson had yet to update us since the 23rd of March with the rolling news and science or the growing number of deaths or what it would mean for Mr.  Warehouse and I as a family and all of the summer fun and activities and parties we would miss out on not only then but looking forward to the rest of the year also; Halloween, my birthday, Christmas, Christmas parties, New Years Eve and not to mention the effing wedding. This being said, however, his strict curb on life in the UK to tackle the spread of COVID-19 Coronavirus has certainly shaken things up 

I spoke right at the beginning of all of this madness stating that whilst the last few weeks in the run-up to the UK's lockdown had been strange, the whole working from home situation had started off feeling odd. Slowly getting better as the days turned to weeks and weeks turned into months I became more and more settled. I had my own little morning routine and even during my lunch half-hour and breaks I would occupy myself with putting the washing on, cleaning or sticking the dishwasher on. I have enjoyed my time working at home all in the knowledge that I could organise a oven clean or some workmen to come round and I would be in. I could order something and know I could open the door to receieve it myself. I could look after the dogs and have cuddles whenever I wanted. It was bliss. 

I, like many workers will be concerned and anxious about even the prospect of being in the workplace. Thankfully I dont have to worry too much about travelling there and back as I don't have to use public transport. But alas it had to come to an end at some point I suppose. Now some of you may already be feeling this way and will want to know that your company or  organisation is retaining the support for physical and mental health as well as its current thinking about flexible and remote working both for now and for the future. Now whilst I accept that we all need to start getting back to our (post-apocolyptic it seems sometimes) new normal, discussions about returning to the workplace, be it a shop, bar or office should be at the heart of any decisions and plans that business makes and every effort should be made to make sure people feel safe and secure in an enviroment they spend more time at than at home, at least pre-COVID. However this is something I feel people aren't talking about not nearly enough. 

The last time I stepped into that office was back in May 2020, before summer, before heatwaves and before any thoughts about postponing the wedding. Even then I only went in to collect a few things from my desk to make it easier to work from home, or WFH as some people are now referring to it. And even before that optional visit it was back in March before lockdown when we were all back, crowding round the doughnuts someone had brought in or queuing for the coffee machine. But I have been assured it is safe with weird heat detection systems, air-cirulation units and socially distanced desks, I am sure it will be, but the communication out is a little sparse for my likling and I cannot, at the moment at least, hold my hand on my heart and say I feel confident and safe returning to work just yet. 

Despite all of this and how tiresome I and many others are finding this lockdown crap, regardless of its "easing", I am glad to just be getting some sort of news and clarity on what the future may look like, even if it is just up until the end of the year. But things are not over and to say that I am scared, anxious, worried, daunted and generally overwhelmed by the whole experiance now as I write to you all less than twelve-hours to go, is an understatement but I know it is for the best and hopefully it wont be so bad ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

School is far from out for Summer

Afternoon All, 

As we approach our 11th week in lockdown I am drained. I am done with all of this pussyfooting around, queueing for this and queueing for that. I am done with it all. Not only am I exhausted but I still feel burnt out and whilst have been furloughed or signed off sick (whichever it may be), the last few weeks had been mentally taxing and taking a toll on me workwise.  

I suppose you could say I am at the end of my tether with it. It is all just so pointless. Figures from the BBC this evening state that whilst the confirmed new cases of coronavirus in the UK stand at over a quarter of a million, the death toll has significantly dropped to just 111 today alone (Monday 01 June 2020), down ten on last week. And I know what you are thinking, Ten doesn't seem like a lot to drop by in a week, but it is still a drop as we have not yet experienced an unsettlingly high spike in deaths or new cases as yet. This being said, however, Boris Johnson has yet to make an announcement of further openings. 

Today saw the first few schools open since lockdown began back in March. The BBC reported today that Headteachers are reporting "highly variable" levels of attendance, ranging from 40% to 70%, as primary schools in England bring back more pupils. The article explained the procedure in which the government has deemed it safe for children in Reception (4-5 year olds), Years 1 (5-6 year olds) and Years 6 (10-11 year olds) to be allowed back to school as some of the first groups able to return. But this isn't the case for all children as during the lockdown there have been some schools which have remained open throughout the coronavirus restrictions for the children of key workers and vulnerable children. 

It seems reading through the article further, that locally it appears to be a bit of a mixed bag, with not all schools either open or bringing back pupils as outlined in the government's plans with some local authorities not yet bringing back more pupils due to limited space, training and also that like the rest of us, not all staff are available due to sickness or shielding. But I can sympathise with parents and carers. I am not sure, had the shoe been on the other foot, I would be rushing to send my kids back into an environment which I could not guarantee was 100% safe. The information provided seems obscure and the contradictory information is frustrating - I am allowed to take my child to school and should be encouraged for doing so, however, I am not allowed to take them to get their hair cut or buy new school shoes? It just seems absurd, and that is before you look at the new rules children are forced to follow. 

One post on Facebook from a Headteacher somewhere up further North than Bedfordshire detailed outlines for all desks to be front-facing, dedicated circles or squares in the playground in which to play in alone and pupils only allowed a set time for toilet breaks and no others in-between, despite some of them being only barely out of nappie (although that is another blog post entirely) which would be really difficult for a little person to do. When you got to go, you got to go. 

Also within this letter to parents, the school stated that no lunchboxes, bags or stationery can be brought into school and that all uniforms or clothes must be washed every night to avoid contamination. But the most heartbreaking thing I read (other than the fact that all plush toys and soft furnishing had been band from classrooms) that should a child fall over and hurt themselves, have a toilet accident or be physically sick on themselves then they will be instructed, from afar and by a member of staff, on how to clean themselves up and how to dress a cut or graze.  

If that cannot be achieved then a parent will have to be called, seemingly defeating the whole "get back to work" thing the government has been banging on about all this time. Just disgraceful and honestly this will be harming children more than staying at home. I mean I don't want to downgrade what early-years teachers do as it is an incredible job, but surely this stuff can be taught to kids by their parents and avoid all of this trauma and upset. Besides, what kids will learn now in the next six-weeks weeks will all be long forgotten come September when schools resume properly (fingers crossed). 

I don't know, to me it makes no sense. Sure send back the over-12's. They have SAT's (another thing I don't agree with) and teens who sit exams next year for GCSE and A-Levels, but not little ones. They barely know personal space with mom and dad let alone with their little friend they haven't seen in not just weeks but maybe even months. Teens and Pre-Teens can social distance, something I know for a fact that a toddler will struggle with, not to mention trying to pull themselves together enough to put a plaster on it when all they really want is a cuddle and to be told it is all going to be alright, although right now I think we all need a bit of that. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Change in the wind says I

Morning, 

Collapsing onto my sofa in my newly turned round living room (one of mine and Mr Warehouse's COVID Jobs to do up the house during lockdown) I was exhausted. As I listened and watched my future husband play on his Xbox I faded in and out of of my surroundings, sometimes falling asleep for mere moments and others just zoning out. I was burnt out and the last few weeks had been mental workwise which had lead to the position I was that Tuesday evening last week. 

You see, I had suffered from mental health issues before and with my depression and anxiety around certain things I was able to curb that and knew when it was coming and how the dark black cloud felt. But this was different and it had been building up and up for several weeks. And so after speaking with my doctors, they signed me off with work-related stress for a fortnight. I was shocked to say the least and as I tried to explain to the HR person I felt incredibly guilty, exhausted, stressed, tired and relieved all at the same time as feeling as though I was letting down customers, engineers and staff alike. And so after a brief discussion with my HR department (lady) the company took the decision to place me on furlough instead. 

Financially this would make me better ff as I would be on basically full pay for the fortnight my doctor has advised and should the worst happen whereby either there is not enough work for me to come back to or I am signed off for longer, as before my pay will be at 80% my normal salary (as paid by the government under the Coronavirus Job Retention scheme) rather than the minimal Statutory Sick Pay (SSP) which is approximately £90 per week. This being said however I made it quite clear that I wanted i noted and on file that the issues were as a direct result of work-related stress, something I had been trying to explain and communicate for weeks.   

Nevertheless, the "Free-Time" I have had, albeit a few hours in the day since I still need to drop Mr Warehouse to and from work every day has been nice. So far I have been able to keep up with some gardening, get into the kitchen to bake many a sweet treat including a monster of a white chocolate cheesecake that we are still trying t work our way through, despite giving a third away to Big Brother Warehouse and his brood. 

I am hoping that my time out of the "workplace" or whatever you want to call it can make for some time to craft and DIY. I have acquired my grandmother's old writing bureau and have plans to revamp it with navy chalk paint and golden metalwork to match the living room's luxe gold and dark blue theme. I plan on finishing off the crafts I started but never finished such as my pebble lamp and once I finish that, I plan on starting a few more including upcycling some white trainers into some 101 Dalmatian inspired sneakers and turning some frumpy looking creps into some bedazzling jewelled kicks to wear on the dancefloor once my feet get tired from the heels on my wedding day. And if I get all of that completed I have a long list of other things I want to either get some or at least get on top of for our upcoming nuptials including welcome signs, decor and even one of those fancy Captin Bride Hats I have seen on Pinterest that I refuse to spend £60+ on when I can just use some materials and gems to achieve the boujee look. 

Ideally, I would like to create some built-in shelves in the living room and even wallpaper the downstairs WC, although I think these are mainly weekend jobs for when I have an extra pair of helping hands. It seems as though we are all going to have many more of these bank-holiday-inspired weekends where everyone either does DIY or gardening. It seems as though "New Normal" and anything relatively life-enhancing is still off the books. With figures from the BBC that state that whilst the confirmed new cases of coronavirus in the UK are over 1,500 today alone, the death toll has significantly dropped to just 121 today alone (Monday 25 May 2020). Boris Johnson's statement to the nation several weeks ago gave us all some hope, and confusion plenty. 

I am just praying that we can get away in July and that the restrictions are lifted before 5th July, enabling our little family in the making to head for the beaches and beauty spots of Cornwall, although I fear that we will wither be amongst the disappointed millions, or the very first lucky few. Things are looking hopeful however, with airlines starting up at the beginning of June and July and promises of places like restaurants and cafe's being open beginning of July, I am hoping for the latter.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Opportunities are usually disguised as hard work so most people don't recognise them

Hello, 

I knew that this week would be a strange one, but I never thought that life would be as different now as it was only a few mere weeks ago. The last few weeks have been strange to say the least, especially working from home which in the beginning was odd, and yet now seems more settled and I kinda have a routine. Boris (Johnson, our Prime Minister, and secret weird crush of mine) has yet to grace us with any more televised statements from Downing Street. This being said, however, his strict curb on life in the UK to tackle the spread of COVID-19 Coronavirus have certainly shaken things up but as the UK death toll has peaked so far at 1,408 I am left questioning what happens in future weeks. 

Simply put, people have not listened, myself maybe being one of them. Like naughty toddlers, people did not heed advice from Government to stay at home (except for shopping for basic necessities, once-daily exercise, attending to any medical need or travelling to and from essential work). And so, as a necessary precaution in order to protect everyone, announcements were made that all shops selling non-essential goods such as clothing and electronics are being told to shut and gatherings in public of more than two people who do not live together are to be prohibited. The pubs, clubs, restaurants, bars and cafes are all closed and with nothing else left to do but to sit indoors and hope that this all comes to an end sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, some people still didn't quite get the memo as Parks and open spaces still became flooded on the weekend we BBQ-ers, sun-bathers and picnics. So much so that UK police have been forced to use their powers to enforce them, including fines and dispersing gatherings. Thankfully living out in't countryside allows us a little more freedom than some of the bigger towns and cities. 

Truthfully, in the beginning, I didn't take this whole thing seriously enough, still don't to an extent. Although that doesn't stop my appreciation for those doing a good job in order to keep everything in the country ticking along nicely until this whole thing blows over. But the last couple of days since Bo-Jo's address to the nation like something from 1945, has really made me question my own situation, I suppose rather selfishly. Early last week, on Tuesday 17 March, moneysavingexpert.com explained easily how banks had agreed with the Chancellor that they will offer 'forbearance' (tolerance and help) on mortgages. This means they all should offer those struggling a three-month 'holiday', allowing customers a temporary break from having to make mortgage payments during this time. Something which I think will help us with some of the more recent developments to do with mine and Mr Warehouse's work situation. 

For us, keeping up with bills and putting food on the table was never really a challenge, and might not be, but we are conscious about the ever-growing distance between us and that crack that seems to loom more and more as the days pass. Realistically having a forbearance on our mortgage at least will help a little, although I am hoping some of our other financial products such as car finance, credit cards and loans can catch up with the mortgage companies soon. It should help and maybe get us out of what could have been a very tight hole in the next few weeks and months, although after spending four-and-a-half hours on hold to our mortgage company last Thursday and then a further 3-hours the following Friday morning I was finally able to speak with someone. Feeling embarrassed I mumbled my way through the phone call with a lovely woman who explained that there was nothing to be embarrassed by and that everyone is in the same boat and to not worry or panic. And so, for the next three months, we won't pay anything, then when our mortgage repayments resume, the total we owe would be spread over the following remain years on our term, relatively speaking we will see a very small uplift in future payments.

Several days later, the UK Government announced a continuity of the COVID-19 Coronavirus package to help people affected by the pandemic which including a sweeping pledge to pay 80% of employees' wages if they are not working due to illness or to cover that of 'retained' employees, being those who would otherwise have been laid off due to the knock-on effects of the coronavirus pandemic. I mentioned last week that, hopefully, this will help many people who would have otherwise lost their jobs. However, it would seem as though I may be benefiting from this exact hand out ... 

iNews.co.uk explains that Furloughed workers are those whose employers cannot cover staff costs due to the COVID-19 Coronavirus, and as such, they have been asked to stop working, but have not been made redundant. The website continues that "under the Coronavirus Job Retention Scheme, all employers in the UK will be able to access support to continue paying part of employees’ salaries who would otherwise have been laid off during the ongoing health crisis." This means that whilst the employee is not necessarily working, the employee still has all the same rights as they did previously including Statutory Sick Pay (SSP) entitlement, maternity rights, other parental rights, rights against unfair dismissal and to redundancy payments. This also allows employees to access all company benefits such as health care, health insurances and even pensions. Obviously, there is a limit to the amount paid will be capped at a maximum of £2,500 per month / per employee (nowhere near my salary - Sadface), and the Government is saying that all is to be issued through grants which can be paid out to any employer and “before the end of April” with wages will be paid backdated to 1st March 2020.  

As it stands, I have yet to hear back on anything solid or any contractual changes that will ultimately need to be put in place before such a big rollout. I will hopefully find out the final results in the coming days, but here's hoping I can continue to work in whatever capacity that may be - Full Time, Part Time, Half Days, Full Days, Different departments - who cares! As long as I am doing something, my bit if you will, then I will be happy. Besides with no kids, childcare issues at nil, twenty-minutes drive from the office and having never taken ill since working for the company I would like to hope I would be a good candidate to keep the well-oiled machine going. I suppose only time will tell, and here's hoping that it will tell all soon. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Glimmer of Hope or The Crack of Lightning

Evening Everyone, 

So with work starting to get along in the flat, not by Mr. Warehouse and I pulling our finger out and doing some DIY but by our Landlord, whom whilst slightly slow at getting anything done quickly is now in the process of remodelling the kitchen and bathroom so that we have brand new tiles and flooring, although the job maybe left with much to desire as the bare minimum has been done with what was originally discussed and needed doing. 

I suppose with the constant reminder of how crappy our situation is in terms of not having the capacity to just do it ourselves and get it fixed how we want it and when we want it without having the worry of workmen coming in and out as they please and potentially being left unattended in our home seems to have maybe worked its magic. Either that or someone is teasing me bad. With my mood cloudy and stormy of late and certainly not feeling myself at all, the good new that I have been striving hard for may have potentially paid off. 

Last week whilst at work I had a phone call. As it was near lunchtime I decided to take the call and eat lunch on the go outside in the sunshine. Trying to avoid the falling Blossoms I sat and listened to what the gentlemanly voice said on the other end of the line. He was calling from a very well-known Mortgage Adviser's in England and was explaining about a company that has recently released what was called a no deposit scheme. In the most basic of terms it means that we can borrow 100% of the value for our first home. As it has taken me nearly nine months to save just under £2,000 I was certainly appreciative of the phone call. But surely there would be a few hoops to jump through and something that would catch me out that would take it away from me. It just simply can't be that easy when I have been working and trying so hard to find somewhere or a way of being able to afford to buy. 

The Mortgage Adviser explained as I already knew that products like this did not come onto the market very often and even when they did, they always came with a weird or wonderful loophole meaning that it would not be possible for myself for Mr Warehouse to apply. Questioning it I thought that it might be too good to be true and so took some details and made a date to call him back when I had more time to go through it all. Again I had my questions answered with honesty and integrity from my Mortgage Adviser. Allowing myself for a second to believe that this might be the beginning of my house owning a journey I went through a few preliminary questions in order to get what is now known as a Mortgage In Principle / MIP. Mr Warehouse and I had been applying to probably ten or twelve different Mortgage Adviser's and companies over the last 18-months, so answering questions about our debt and outstanding monies owed was certainly not issue. With our Mortgage In Principle in hand I looked no further and immediately spent the rest of my lunch break calling up estate agents and housing associations looking for any properties that might be within our budget. 

So far Mr Warehouse and I have seen just one property and that was offered to another person due to the fact that they had the premium bond that was slapped on top of the asking price in the bank and ready in cash essentially. As frustrating as it was to let go of a property we could not afford nor have was hard. I think that however in the long run this would have been a better outcome due to the fact that we would not have wanted three bedrooms, nor would we have probably wanted the longer commute or indeed somewhere that we had seen only once and especially with the first property we had seen. As gorgeous and as perfect as it was it was definitely a good choice to not go with the first place we saw. 

Now I am not going to lie and say that it was easy nor in fact that it has been fully confirmed yet that we can buy, but one thing is for certain and that is that there appears to be a silver lining to be otherwise cloud that hangs over me. Over the last couple of weeks I have felt slightly more sunnier and I am solely holding the housing situation as fully responsible for making me smile more. I wouldn't say that I was fully back there and recovered as whilst getting a Mortgage In Principle is a big deal it certainly won't make up for some of the other issues that I have going on in my life at the moment. With me struggling to shift this darkness, I have sought to find some help in the form of a therapist or counselling again.

As frustrating as it is I attempted to go through the normal avenues of the NHS and waiting for doctor's to confirm my mental health and a diagnosis and then a referral and blah blah blah. That was until my workplace stepped in and with several different people's input and help over the last week or two I have been able to hopefully secure myself with a counsellor or a therapist, fingers crossed starting this week or next. I really think that therapy and counselling will help me as it did last time. I just need to focus and concentrate hard on me and not others and hopefully one day I can learn to deal in the cards that I have been dealt. Who knows maybe I'll win ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

One Size Does Not Fit All!

Afternoon All, 

So the moment has come (nearly) when the shops start blaring out Christmas hits and everyone starts barging in Tesco for the last box of mince pies! But as everyone clammers for that Gold Sequin number in Topshop, here I am wishing I could fit in to Primark sizes let alone any of the other High Street or Online party dress offerings. 

Ever since I can remember I have always been a larger size. At my High School Prom I look back on the photos of me that will take him that evening and think about how skinny and then I was. I looked a bit odd with my large head on my small underdeveloped frame. True to my Emo / Scene kids self I wore a handmade "Cold November Rain" inspired prom dress compromising of a corseted bodice and a graduated hemline skirt of black silk and pink neon chiffon. I had a collar bone and arms with shoulders to be proud of. I was a size 12. Now, a decade on, I am four dress sizes bigger and with the High street now struggling to cater to my less than agile physique, three weeks ago I decided to finally do something about it. I joined a new Gym opening for less than a tenner a month and have decided to also invest in a personal trainer to help kick start the weight loss and journey to a thinner, happier and hopefully more attractive me!

My inspiration really has to come from somewhere I have spent most of my time and that is at work. One girl there has grabbed the bull by the horns and has thrown herself into the exercise and fitness regimes like a female baaws I have never seen before. Triple-Thursdays are now a thing where three back-to-back classes are in attendance every week along with work out Wednesdays and Gym-Time-Tuesday. OK the last two I made up but Triple-Thursday is a real thing. A the beginning of the year I admired her. By the Summer I was in awe of her achievements and now, I look back as we all do on the transformation she has made and applaud her for all the hard work and effort she has put in. But in all fairness it is not you or I that see the difference or reap the benefits, nor even the lucky man she has on her arm, but her. She worked so damn hard because at some point she reached where I am now in the fact that I don't want to be that Mommy that sits on the park bench watching the kids play. I want to chase after them and run around too, not sitting reading a book I don't like because I get out of breath just looking at the roundabout. I want to be able to run round the park after my step-pooch and one day my own little fluff ball playing hide-and-seek and chase. I want to run up the stairs and not almost pass out at the top. 

After my first week I was hella nervous and on entering the new Gym complex where I was to begin my Personal Training Sessions I was a little scared. Normally friendly and bubbly to the point of being in your face I couldn't have become more opposite, now preferring to be a wallflower, fading into insignificance. Although I am a plus-size gal so that ain't happening any time soon. Starting off on the treadmill I was OK, a little breathy but OK. But that was just the warm up. Next were kettle bell swinging and steps. Again, a little more out of puff but still managing to hold a conversation. following that my PT decided to crank it up a notch by introducing me to the ropes and medicine balls. Again, looking at them I thought that they might be a little more tough but something I can handle. Yeah it was OK but I was certainly starting to feel it. Sweating in all the places I never expected to I carried on, trying to battle my way through. Finally those reps were done and I rewarded myself with some water and a moments rest. But then. Then came the dreaded box of doom. 

Twenty-inches high, the cube came up to above my knee. "I have had skirts longer than that" I thought to myself. "But you also couldn't fit into them now, could you fatty!" the devil on my shoulder said in retaliation. Spurring me on I soldiered through the gruelling task of simply stepping up onto the box and stepping back down. Sounds easy enough but by ten repetitions in I needed to stop. My vision was blurry and becoming tunnelled. I could feel waves of heat washing over me and every movement of my head or body made me want to be sick. Not wanting to Vom on my PT I took a rest and sat down for fear I might stumble. I knew my limit and I was super-unfit. Regretting the cigarettes and booze and takeaways I walked out of the venue bidding farewell to the staff thinking that I could do what I always do and just never come back. 

The question is would that really benefit me? The brutal answer is no it wouldn't and in less than six-weeks time I would be wondering why I am still the same size as I was last year and the year before and the year before that, all in the hope that somewhere does nice dresses in fat sizes for my Christmas party at work. Now I am not trying to say that all people size twenty (UK) and above need to go and join a gym and get on a strict diet of lettuce and carrot sticks, but what I am saying is that I am sick and tired of looking in every shop at beautiful dresses or outfits and all in the knowledge that they are not made for my frame or size. I have had enough of seeing stylish and sexy clothes that I cannot wear because they do not fit either on the arms, bust or waist and on the odd occasion I will hit a hat-trick of all three being completely wrong in an outfit that looks stunning on the size eight model. 

I returned last week for my first full paying session with the personal trainer. She is now costing my £45.00 for six-sessions of thirty-minutes every week and at a value of less than £7.50 per session I think that works out fantastic value and gets me exactly where I want to be. I wasn't as nervous as a first time walking through the doors, and in actual fact being greeted by people that already knew my face was quite a blessing. Oddly enough I had been looking forward to it. And whilst it was hard with more of the ropes, medicine balls and kettle bells, plus a few squats and lunges for good measure I was pleased to not feel as out of breath as I was the week before. No nausea. No blurred vision. No having to stop. Powering through it like my own female baaws. I have not quite got the Triple-Thursday crave yet, but I certainly walk out of the place now feeling more confident, achieved and even with a smile of my face looking forward to my next session. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Taking One For The Team!

Hallo!

Following the fun and frolics of last weekend at Bovingdon Market, this weekend was a lot more laid back and easy going, despite Mr Warehouse working on Saturday morning that is. Nevertheless I was glad for the relaxed weekend that we had together as come Monday morning I had a big challenge on my hands. 

For one reason or another during the office move from our old establishment, it would have appeared that the holiday board had been mislaid and therefore lead to several key kingpins in the management department being off at the same time, two of which are from my department in service. At first when I learnt that I was going to be heading up the service team for the next week I was nervous, but I soon realized that maybe this is the opportunity to prove my worth and make people realize that I am not just a twenty something looking for a job. I am a serious woman that is looking for a career before settling down to have children. I want to earn my money and gain a higher position within the company and the only way to do so is to prove my value as a team member and also as someone who will be able to lead. 

Today was my first day of the week (obviously being Monday) and whilst I had started on the back foot with another member of the team being off sick I felt that I was able to handle the day well, managing both my engineers and also the customers. I shan't go into great detail about what the issues were throughout the day however there was the normal stuff as well as a few Curve-balls and sticky problems that I eventually resolved, even if it did take me to 6.15pm. 

Did I enjoy being in charge? I think to be honest it is too soon to say, especially since it is only Monday. However, it is safe to say that I am thoroughly enjoying the fact that I am the one that people look to for help. Now I know how big headed that sounds and that I am really blowing my own trumpet, but with the amount of pitfalls that I had today I am almost certain that tomorrow and the following days I can handle anything. A part of me really misses being the only one there and in charge of the whole team. Back when I worked with Mr Warehouse at our last job's, I was the only one in charge and although the division that I was looking after was small, almost overlooked in some instances when compared to the Nationwide company, it was still my baby and I had brought it up from the absolute dirt ground. When I left, the division was blossoming into something seriously worth considering for future development and growth. Over the years that it took me to build up the rapport with customers as well as the engineers and sales people, I earned my respect both internally with work colleagues as well as on a national level with directors and big-wigs alike. 

Whilst I can look back on my time at the company with Rose-tinted-glasses I sometimes need to remind myself that it was far from perfect and take into consideration the fact that things were starting to go downhill and from a management perspective, it was probably for the best that I jumped ship sooner rather than later, only to be forced to find something else. Now don't get me wrong I absolutely adored the people that I worked with and my job I lived for. Some people say that if you love your job you will never work a day in your life and working for my previous company could not have been any closer to the truth. However the money that I got was not great and as an employee I felt undervalued and underpaid for the amount of work I did, with very little thanks along the way. 

Moving to my new company (I say new but it has been almost a year) has certainly been a breath of fresh air and this week can only confirm for me that I am desperate for something more than just a job to pass time until I have a family. I can see myself in years to come running my own team and looking after people beneath me. Maybe customer service or customer relations, maybe a smaller division of the service desk running my own team of engineers. I don't know, but what I do know is that I will ace this week. Women run this country throughout the two world wars and we're probably the only reason why we were able to be so successful, so I am sure that I can hold down the fort for the service team. And despite the initial setbacks and the fact that there was a major hiccup in the holiday-authorisation department, I am kind of grateful for it happening this way as I feel that I have the time to shine and show everyone what I am made of. Being a manager, I don't know yet but I am definitely willing to give it a go, at least for a week anyway ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Timing Is Everything!

Hello-Hello,

Sitting on my sofa after a hard Monday back at work I listened to where Mr. Warehouse would be placed tomorrow by a new agency he had signed up with. Carefully hearing all the important information I asked what the plan was for dinner as I had a driving lesson and needed to know what time he was due to be back.

"Oh. I didn't ask that one?" My dear boyfriend replied. After explaining why it was important that before any job role he knows the exact details about where he was working, when the shift started and ended as well as what he was doing and how much he was being paid, I jokingly exclaimed that I would see him at 10pm. How very different I would feel in less than twenty-four-hours time.

The following morning our little household was woken up bright and early and as I saw Mr. Warehouse off to work as a warehouse operative at a homeware distribution centre on the outskirts of town, I got myself ready. Checking my phone after taking the dog for her morning walk I was pleased to hear that my other-half had got to work OK and with a few minutes to spare before his shift started at half-seven in the morning, he took the time to speak with some new colleagues. Enquiring about the job itself and how people enjoyed it they exclaimed and laughed at him that he should probably sack it in now as the days are long and hard with no-one leaving until everything is done. One man even described how the evening before was a twelve-hour long shift. I laughed in reply and Mr. Warehouse had stood by his comments the night before stating that he shouldn't be there more than eight-hours and that he would see me at four-thirty when he finished.

As the day went by and my mind was occupied by engineers, new jobs and workloads to manage it soon arrived to lunch-time but as I sat in the canteen, I got a message saying that it might be nearer to six or seven in the evening than four in the afternoon. Not worried I told him that it was his fault and not to complain because he should have asked the agency what the working shift pattern was before taking the job offer in the first place. Either way he would still be home before me for my driving lesson was booked until 7pm.

But as I sat watching the darkness descend slowly outside our patio doors, I wondered about where my other-half was. Mr. Warehouse and I had not spoken since lunchtime and that was well over six-hours ago. Anxious although not panicked yet the phone rang. It was Momma Warehouse and she sounded distraught.

"Is he there with you?" She asked frantic. I replied no.

"When was the last time you heard from him?" came the next question which again I could only answer vaguely. After explaining she had been trying to get hold of him all evening I said that there was probably nothing to worry about and that he would probably be walking through the door any moment. But as I hung up the call I realised it was already coming up to 8pm and I suddenly started to worry. As the next hour ticked by I still had no responses from my calls, texts and messages. I was very concerned now. Thinking the worst I messaged Miss Tweedle-Dumb who called Mr. Warehouse in vain whilst I tried to get in touch with Mr. CWG - Mr. Creepy Warehouse Guy. When I heard that he also had not heard from him since that afternoon I really started to panic. My boyfriend messages Mr. CWG more than me so for him not to have heard anything either was a worry. Thoughts racing through my mind I began to cry. Hot tears rolling down my cheeks I ended my call to Mr. CWG and made my final move before calling the police.

Dialling the Agencies out of hours number I prayed that they picked up and when they did I went on a ramble explaining to the young girl that answered that my partner had not come home from work and that this now was over thirteen-hours since he left the house. Understanding my concerns to some extent she explained rather pathetically how the establishment where he was placed do "occasionally" work overtime, however this was option and every employee had the right to refuse. This was strange and didn't sound right. What was I to do? Was my boyfriend still at work? Did he feel so bad about letting me down last week he has worked these extra hours to make up for lost money? Has he just done this all out of spite because I pushed him so hard to find something rather than nothing? Had he left work and in an attempt to save money walked home and had an asthma attack and was in hospital? Or even worse - A ditch? I needed to know so I asked the young girl on the end of the phone to please check where her employees were and when they would be home for people were worried sick about them.

Aggressively hanging up the phone I called Mr. Warehouse's mobile in the hope he would answer but I knew he would not. It was ringing so I knew it hadn't died or otherwise it would gone straight to voice-mail. Miss Tweedle-Dumb had also tried as had my dad, Momma Warehouse, Mr. CWG and all of Mr. Warehouses cousins and family. We were all very concerned. 10pm came and went and as I started to think what my next move would be and which one of the many pictures I would be releasing to the press and Crimewatch, the phone rang. It was the Agency. She explained to me that my partner had stayed extra to help with the workload and that he was definitely still working in the warehouse. I asked her if she thought it was appropriate that someone was working over fourteen-hours on their first day of work and whether this was common practise. She couldn't answer. I should not have been surprised when she could not even answer me when he would be home, only explaining that it was "extremely rare that the company was working this late and that normally al the guys were at home by now" however this did not provide comfort to my already trembling self.

Another hour passed before I had a phone call explaining that Mr. Warehouse would be home soon. How soon is soon though I asked and before I had a chance for her to answer Miss. Tweedle-Dumb called explaining that she had just spoken with Mr. Warehouse and that he was going to be calling me very, very shortly. After a fifteen-hour shift I finally answered a call from Mr. Warehouse. Grabbing the dog I ran out into the street to meet him. The buses had stopped running hours ago and so a supervisor had given him a lift. 'And I should think so too - It was the absolute very least they could do!' I thought to myself as I held him underneath a lamppost in what seemed like the dead of night.

Stepping into the flat examined my exhausted and broken man. I began to cry and with all the stress and hardship that we had been through reattaching itself to my shoulders I began to wonder what would happen to us next. Shattered I warmed up his evening meal and we began to speak slowly of the evening we had both encountered. Mr. Warehouse explained that after working all day it was outlined by his supervisor that the work needed to be done and that an overtime rate would be paid for any hours done extra. It was made very clear to the workers that these overtime hours were not as extra and optional, but almost as standard and critical if you wanted to keep your job. In the whole fifteen-hour day Mr. Warehouse had done he had only barely had an hour-and-ten-minutes break time. This coupled with the fact that I only sent him to work with a small packed lunch consisting of a roll, packet of crisps and a chocolate biscuit and no breakfast made for some truly appalling bedtime story especially when you hear of there being no on-site facilities to get extra food for the long shifts ahead.

After all that the Agency called the following morning after I had left and spoke asked Mr. Warehouse why he was not at work for he should have been there from 07.30am. Shocked and outraged my beloved boyfriend explained the night he had and after exclaiming the fact that he did not return home until nearly midnight, he was due at least an eleven-hour rest period between shifts as a government standard by law. Saying nothing the Agency said they would speak to him later but with the respect of another never-ending shift ahead of him Mr. Warehouse called them back to explain he would not be returning. The Agency laid him off that assignment and by the end of the day had found him something new to start. A rolling contract day-by-day at a steelworks literally round the corner from his old workplace and my desk was just what he needed. With shifts from 8am until 4.30pm and a super early finish at lunchtime on a Friday it finally seemed as though thing were looking up for us. He went to work on his first day Thursday last week and has been there ever since, even helping out to do some "opted into" overtime on Friday afternoon. I just hope that this becomes a bit more permanent in the future.

This break away to my Auntie and Uncles one-hundred-year-old cottage in southern Ireland couldn't have come at a better time and with all the mounting stress of money, bills and upcoming events to pay out for I am glad for the relaxing atmosphere. Rolling hills, fresh country air and nothing to do but feeding animals is just what the doctor ordered. However in recent conversation, Mr. Warehouse has told me that apparently his supervisor had ridiculed me for calling so many times and had mentioned something that I would be angry when my boyfriend returned home. Well sir, if you are reading of which you probably are not as you are dictating work to already burned out but desperate people, you are whom I am angry with. You are wrong in what you are doing, both by the laws of this land but also morally. I would like to know what drug you are on for I cannot see how you can sleep at night preying on the vulnerable of society in order to gain a wealth of profits and turnover for your fat cats up there in the office. I hope to god that you have to suffer what everyone under your leadership suffers and that one day Karma will come and get you. She has your number sir, she's coming for you!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Work Is Called Work Because It Is Hard

Hello There You,

So as I continued my working day as normal on Thursday of last week, all in the knowledge that my dear Mr. Warehouse was out at work in his new role within a brewery, I revelled in the possibility that we could soon be living a life better than we were with more holidays, a car for me and less money worries than we needed. However as I finished off the final bit of security clearance I had been working on the phone rang. I answered to a voice that was tearful and trembling. It was my boyfriend. I knew what had happened even before I asked and yet I still allowed myself to ask what was wrong. 

"I quit my job" a tear-cracking voice croaked from the other end of the line. As I went to offer word of support I questioned what I would even say. Anger, disappointment and upset pulsating through my body I needed to put all them emotions and more aside for Mr. Warehouse needed my support right now and not my criticism. I tried to offer some empathetic words of advice and wisdom in a moment of utter despair. I knew nothing would go in as I had been in that position myself, many a time before. But what worried me the most is that I always found a way to bounce back from a bad situation and turn it into an advantage by looking and successfully gaining employment very quickly. I just hoped that it would rub off onto my other half and that I wouldn't have to look into alternative living arrangements for him also. 

Not that of course I would ever have wanted to but reluctantly, I gave Mr. Warehouse the ultimatum that he had before I fly out to Ireland to look after my Aunt and Uncles Country Farmhouse on Friday morning, he had to find a job and ideally be already working by the Thursday evening. As harsh as it sounds - He had a week. I mean I would have given him two if it was not for me going away but his reckless and quite frankly rather selfish decision was an added and unnecessary stress on our relationship, not to mention the impact it has had on our wallets. I still stand by my "Ultimatum" that it was not a harsh one, for I cannot, and will not, struggle for someone who does not consider others situations and circumstances before themselves. Desperate, I tried to hear my beloved boyfriend's points of the job being strenuous, straining on muscles and stifling in the heat of a stuffy warehouse with little or no wind to clear the stale air, but a little part of me knew that this was simply a shock to the system. Rightly or wrongly, probably more so the latter, in recent years Mr. Warehouse was seldom breaking into a sweat on where he used to work with me and my colleagues. The fact that he was now loading and unloading pallets full with crates of beer, ales and other bottles of alcohol was hard and laborious in comparison to his previous roles. In a way I felt sorry for him, but in others I wished he would have stuck it out in a bid to see if it gets better and what the alternative shift may hold. But alas my intrinsic advice falls onto deaf ears again.

For the rest of the day I seemed to mope. Not by choice or conscience doing, just simply bumbling through the rest of the day wondering how it would be possible to support our little household on the extremely modest wage I was earning. Bills, Rent and the likes were nearly nine-hundred-pounds, and with Mr. Warehouse's outgoings and bills on top it made my entire wage packet disappear before you could even say 'Jobseekers Allowance'. Not only would I loose absolutely every last piece of my already mediocre social life, I would also miss out on vital driving lessons and learning potential therefore knocking my test back even further than needed. I wouldn't be able to visit Miss Tweedle-Dumb in her new job and life in the Berkshire countryside west of London. I'd have to stop all my plans for holidays to European Christmas Markets and spontaneous weekends away. All in all I would be sacrificing my evenings, potentially working two jobs, just to support myself and Mr. Warehouse as well as the dog who also needs feeding. 

After talking with Mr. Warehouse his options and explaining to him that whilst I will always try my up most to support him in every which way he needed me and wanted me to, both financially and emotionally I would try and put my feelings of anger and hurt aside to cater for him and his needs first. Although this is of course very hard when you feel wronged in a way that you have offered an olive branch in good faith it should never have to be taken and then it is taken as an easy option out of a mildly bad situation. I would have hoped, knowing how much he disliked the job from the outset, that Mr. Warehouse would have at least tried to stick it out for a little longer, continuing in the job search whilst spending his afternoons humping and lumping Amstel crates around. 

Nevertheless I cannot complain too much for after a productive Friday afternoon calling round employment agencies, emailing CV's and a few cheeky hours on the Xbox whilst I was still at work, Mr. Warehouse has found himself a job. Although whilst this is temporary, with the potential of it and other jobs coming up more permanent and with better pay the future is looking optimistic in comparison to last week, but until I feel my shoulders relax again as a result of the added income, I will continue to feel the financial burden of keeping us all from drowning. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo!

Morning there one and all, 

Still the saga continues with my energy company, British Gas (See post - 'An Electrifying Discovery'), but after a very much exhausting but mildly luxurious mini-break and wedding weekend away in Wisbech, it was time to leave behind the peace and tranquillity of the green and rather flat countryside of Cambridgeshire for it was finally time for the Annual Awards Ceremony with work ... And boy was it about to get messy!

Dressed in a long gown, lace gloves and perspex shoes in tacked and with my hair primped and preened within an inch of its life I was finally ready for the ball and ready to make my entrance as Cinderella . But as I approached the venue, noticing poodle skirt after poodle skirt with the odd tuxedo mixed in for good measure too I wondered to myself secretly, as I always do when I make a big effort in my outfit, as to whether this was A - Appropriate and B - If it was wholly relevant to the 1950's theme we had been tasked with. Asking myself these questions my cocky-self butted in and said to stop being ridiculous I looked fabulous and should not care for others opinions. Cinderella was created and born in the 1950's by Walt Disney himself and so I should be thrilled to be one of the most memorable characters from that decade. 

I certainly looked the part and as I sashed past the vintage bright pink cars and Teddy Boys I was greeted by my fellow colleagues, consisting of two Woody Woodpeckers, A Bowling Alley Guy, Cat in the Hat, a Geek, a Prep and some sort of Elvis. Ahh yes we were all ready to get funky and down to some Rat Pack beats, but not before we sat down to our three course meal and sat through the awards ceremony. As I chopped and changed between whether to continue drinking the god awful White wine that was on the table or the nicer bottle of Red I caught the rambling of my Big-Big Boss. 

Scheduler? Significant impact to the company? Help in the start up and running of the business over the past year? Suddenly my name was called out. I had won an award. Me! Abbey Louise in receipt of an acknowledgement for hard work! An award! I was chuffed and as I made my way through the crowded tables; cheers, whoops and holla's all the way and high-fiving my sales rep on the way passed I knew that I had finally found somewhere to belong. A company that treasured its employees and rewarded hard work and growth. I was also awarded with a substantial sum of high street vouchers and look forward to utilising them very, very soon. 

Making my way back to my table, slightly bewildered and a little shocked I had won something after only being with the company just over a year I saw some familiar faces that I would speak to regularly but never saw face to face. They all congratulated me on my award and cooed over my dress, although I think one women got confused as she kept singing "Let it go" to me from Disneys Frozen. Elsa. Cinderella . Well I suppose they both wore a blue dress and were somewhere along the line princesses so I can see the correlation, especially for the drunken sole that she was. 

As the night continued Mr. Warehouse and company joined me on the dance-floor where some serious shapes were being thrown, especially from that nice, award-giving man, my Big-Big Boss. And when it all got a little too hot and steamy, which for some guests it obviously did, there was the patio areas in the surrounding grounds that we were able to smoke and catch our breath. In between mingling, dancing, spilling red wine down everyone I was impressed that there was so many attractive young men in the company, many of whom seemed single and up for more than a mingle. A couple of sweet lads in particular I had a chat with and they had complimented my outfit of choice as I did theirs (a smashingly dashing suit to be visual to you all). Tall, dark and handsome I soon was at ease with the attractive man, although I knew that eyes were burning at me from across the room so tamed my flirting and took it down a notch or two from my usual. 

But that didn't stop a second bachelorette trying his luck. Slightly shorter than I was, probably would have been equal if I had taken off my two-inch jelly shoes, he approached me from across the floor and as we said our initial greetings I revelled in the fact that there was a common ground already in the sense that we were all from the same company just different sections of the UK. I could see now why there was such an appeal at these kinds of events just to cop=off with someone and know that certainly for a year at least you wont have to see them or even speak to them, by which point they might forget what a horrible snorer you are and sleep with you a second time. Nevertheless we chatted for a bit before I went in search for more Red wine, which for those that know me personally, know I most certainly never, ever drink Red but for some odd reason, maybe it was free I don't know, it tasted much better than the White and so down the hatch it went! 

As the night drew to a close and the party goers slipped off to their bedrooms, some revellers still going headed to the second hotel bar but instead I decided to call it a night, put the glass of Merlot down and hit the sack, Mr Warehouse not far behind me. 

Abruptly awoken the next morning by the fucking bin lorries for the wanking rubbish I finally knew a little bit what everyone kept saying about a wine headache! Yes I think I had a slight hangover and as my phone bleeped full from messages from drunken colleague the night before and requests to meet downstairs for breakfast I rolled over and prodded my very, very grumpy boyfriend. With a few grunts and grumbles we finally made it to reception where we found a few stragglers from the night before, but from under my sunglasses I could see they were still just as pissed as I was. Like a bear with a sore head Mr. Warehouse and I made our way to breakfast and after stomaching a few items and a whole lot of juice we awaited our car-sharers to drive us all back home. 

Pulling out the Sofa-bed it didn't take me long to fall asleep and in the comfort of my own home dreamt of the next Annual Awards Ceremony with work in 2016 - Bring. It. On!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx