Evening one and all,
So after last week's blog post I thought that I would have lost at least something after attending a few more sessions at my local gym and after following the weeks of personal training sessions it would appear that all the hard work is starting to pay off. More and more people are starting to notice that I have lost a bit of timber. In fact, at my weekly meeting on Thursday last week I was told by my personal trainer that I had lost nearly two stone in the last 8 weeks or so. Hard to think that I have had several social events, two holidays and even Christmas as well. I am so pleased with myself and whilst I am still in the size 18 category in most shops I am certain that I will not be there for long. Anyway on with the show ...
This weekend was going to be a game changer and something that would hopefully change the spending habits of Mr Warehouse and I, all in preparation for us to hopefully own our own home. Be it this year or next (and heaven forbid if it is any longer than that) I would like Mr Warehouse and I to be in a home that we own, at least in part anyway. I know that it is almost as a pipe dream thinking that I might be able to move in and buy a house by the end of the year, but the way I see it is that if I do not aim high I will not get anywhere, constantly frittering away money on nothing. Obviously, that all being said it was almost a pointless waste of time getting up early on Saturday morning.
Waking after a late night watching crap TV and listening to Mr Warehouse tap away on his Xbox, we were late and to make matters worse what woke me up was a phone call from the bank. Unfortunately for me they were calling to let me know that despite my 30-minute phone call earlier in the week with a customer service adviser at the Call Center, the information I gave regarding wanting an appointment to speak with an adviser about saving for our first home and potentially about getting a mortgage had not been passed on. Infuriated, I certainly did not have time to discuss the reasons as to the Call Center's fuck up. Angry and annoyed at the fact that I had not woken up on time and was now about to be late to our first appointment with a different bank for the same reasoning as before. Running out of time, I ended the call, threw on some clothes and slapped on some make-up and headed for the car.
On arriving to our first meeting with a mortgage adviser, nearly 25-minutes late, Mr Warehouse and I stood in the queue like total lemons waiting for someone to come and talk to us. Once the in-branch staff had finished dealing with all the other busy customers and they had and finally got on to seeing us, it was far too late to do anything and as a result we were turned away. I suppose in a way it was my fault and I should have made sure my alarm was set and whilst it is not a major problem in the grand old scheme of things it was certainly annoying to have not one but two appointments for through on the same day, one of which at least was out of our control.
With this, I thought that Mr Warehouse and I would probably find somewhere for a cheeky fry-up and maybe a spot of shopping. Nope! Following a march out into the street from the bank foyer, Mr Warehouse and I started to crack with each other. The niggles and snaps came thick and fast as we both understood each other's frustration at the mornings activities, or not as the case maybe. Feeling like the world was against us, not to mention each other, we headed home and kept ourselves to ourselves. I was angry that we had missed our appointment and Mr Warehouse was not accommodating in any which way with what he wanted to do after the morning activities had fallen through. Mr Warehouse was annoyed that I was annoyed about the banks miscommunication and ergo missing our other appointment. The most frustrating thing about being in a relationship with Mr Warehouse is the fact that he does not want to argue and refuses to have any confrontation whatsoever. Everyone enjoys a good bust-up right?
Sitting in silence as I scrolled through my phone whilst the Bae cleaning the kitchen I certainly felt guilty for taking it out on him when it was not really his fault. Obviously I am a woman and would never let on that I was never in the wrong. Nevertheless when the dog farted and broke the silence we couldn't help but look at each other and laugh. Following our unfortunate morning we headed out in the afternoon in order to go and play with some Meerkats.
I had bought Mr Warehouse a present of being a zoo-keeper for the day for his birthday in August last year, and including looking after all animals and cute ones, scary ones and creepy ones he opted instead to look after some Meerkats. Certainly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I would highly recommend the activity for anybody who enjoys animals and wildlife especially those with kids. Maybe not something about Mr Warehouse and I could take our smaller relative to due to the fact that they are either loud and rambunctious but also that my cousins are quite timid and are more like scaredy cats than Meerkats. A nice meal out courtesy of the whoever brought us the Nando's voucher for Christmas and a trip to the pub to watch the football on Sunday pretty much concluded our weekend. Suffice to say that it has probably been the most active of weekends since before Christmas I am certainly glad to be having things to look forward to instead of thinking about how far away our summer holiday is! Uhhh So Long!!!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Zoo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zoo. Show all posts
Monday, 15 January 2018
Monday, 15 February 2016
Having a Whale of a Time!
Hello there one and all from a strangely sunny Dublin?!
Now, I say strangely as they don't call it "The Green Isle" for nothing you know and every time I have ever visited it has always been dreary and raining. However my holiday so far with Mr. Warehouse has been brilliant. Obviously last week there was talk of getting my Ta-Ta's out, although I think that was slightly optimistic given the fact that the weather out here is about the same temperature as back home in Blighty, not very warm indeed - ergo, no Ta-Ta's out this holiday!
Lets start from the beginning shall we? So finishing work on Thursday at half day was as blissful as all half days usually are, although this one was manic as I had been up since 6am and had not stopped to sit down until I was either at work, the nail salon or the hairdressers! It was go-go-go from the moment I got up and after finishing my working (half) day it did not stop there as I continued my day collecting medication for Mr. Warehouse, posting parcels, sending letters, buying some last holiday bits, collecting some clothes and packing my case and that was not including the pampering disasters I had on the way. I arrived at the nail salon I went to just before Christmas to get my nails did which incidentally made no difference what-so-ever as they were chipped by the time I finished packing Thursday night in turn putting me in a foul mood to start with. And the foul mood didn't stop when I woke up on Friday morning ready for our afternoon flight from Birmingham International as the hair cut I had the previous day that looked lovely, if a little on the short side, I now discovered that in actual fact I had been given what can only be described as a wonky graduated bob resulting in me loosing more than double what I asked her to trim. Royally fucked off now I had no choice but to don my rat-tail extensions in the hope they looked relatively real. Sipping on a Caramel Latte from my beloved Tassimo I went through the days travel plans to get us to the airport, before getting dressed and ready to leave.
Getting to the airport I thought would not be as faffy as it was, however with a journey time of around three-hours from door to airport check-in I was exhausted already. The slow train was very, very slow and with a connection time of seven-minutes I was anxious to get there in good haste. Sitting in Birmingham International Airport I was excited to be finally a little closer to our holiday away, although regretful slightly that it wasn't somewhere more adventurous on the departure board.
Several hours and an uneventful flight later we touched down in what appeared to be a very grey and overcast Dublin. My hopes were not high and whilst I knew we were not going to be sweltering in forty-degree heat I so wanted Ireland to be the place where Mr. Warehouse fell in love with it as much as I have in my years of coming here. Whizzing through airport security as usual with only a glance at who we all were, Mr. Warehouse and I headed to the exit only to be told that since the bus had to leave on time we would have to wait for the next one which was only an 'Irish' five-minutes away. I say 'Irish' as Irish people seem to be on a different time-scale, something which I am more than accustomed to. An 'Irish' five minutes is more like twenty, very similar to the commonly used phrases 'I am on my way' and 'I just need to do my make-up'.
After waiting around for more than twenty 'Irish' minutes, we had arrived at our final destination, our hotel! Discovering our room was 202 in the heady heights of a five-storey Georgian town-house with no lift access Mr. Warehouse reluctantly grabbed the bags and headed for the stairwell. Our room was tiny, smaller than Mr. Warehouse's bedroom at his mothers house back home it was nicely decorated and was situated only a few moments from the hub of Dublin's City centre including shops, restaurants and tourist-y things! Our first evening in the city we had agreed would be a slow one, so we headed to the Tourist Information and paid upfront for a Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour, which is happening tonight - SO excited!
For dinner we had settled on a teeny-tiny burger joint called BoBos Burgers! Now everyone knows how much I love a good burger and believe me nothing could top my favourite place for burgers - London's Honest Burger! Last years first holiday to Lyon with Mr. Warehouse nearly toppled it with King Marcel, again feeding us on our first night to the French Foodie City! After reading on-line about how good this place was I knew I would have to try it out, and boy am I glad I did. I cannot recall the burger I had but in it was sweet red-onion chutney, a medium-rare Irish beef burger, yummy cheese, and other gorgeous ingredients! I opted for chips as well although after finishing my burger, I could only stomach a few fries. Feeling bad and after passing more than a handful of homeless people on our travels, I got the restaurant to bag them up ready for someone else's dinner tonight. Only a few metres down the street from the restaurant and outside a posh delicatessen, Mr. Warehouse and I spotted a homeless man who appeared to be asking for food and money. I bent down and explained that we were tourists and that after our meal just now we had not been able to eat all our chips (two buckets worth I might say adding up to over seven-euros). They were still warm and as I handed the grubby man the bag he continued to thank us, explaining that we were angels and that this was his dinner tonight. It was freezing out, not much more than one or two degrees so the fries in all fairness were probably nearly cold but for him we had possibly made his day and that is something money cant buy.
Saturday we travelled round on the tourist buses all day, attending the site of the Guinness Factory and walked past the Guinness hospital, set up by the Guinness family for the employees of the factory. The top two conditions doctors would see - Alcohol poisoning and sclerosis of the liver?! Enjoying our bus ride we headed back to the hotel to get ready for our all-Irish night out on the tiles in Dublin. The Temple Bar District of Dublin seemed to be the place to be and after heading into several pubs, having one drink at each we found ourselves at the end of the night in the same bar as we started at with the same Irish musicians as before. Drunk as Irish Husbands we headed for home collecting a McDonald's en-route (which tasted incredible I might add as my burger has crispy fried onions in it was amazing, although that might have been the umpteen ciders I had been drinking that evening) before we hailed a man with a bicycle-took-took to take us the ten minutes back to the hotel.
Waking up yesterday morning, Mr. Warehouse and I felt like the back-end of a Donkey with breath smelling much worse. Happy Valentines Day! Not being able to remember much that wasn't fuzzy or blurred, Dublin had well and truly fucked us in the bum. Hanging, I drank some water and took some paracetamol and got on with it whilst Mr. Warehouse groaned for about twenty minutes and then got over his hangover too. Boarding the bus we headed to Europe's third largest Zoo after London and Paris - Dublin Zoo of course! Walking around we saw babies such as Lion cubs, Elephants and Giraffes as well as their mommies and daddies too. Enjoying every bit of the day we ended it in the gift shop of all places where Mr. Warehouse bought me an adorable cuddly toy Lion - A romantic gesture I have always wanted a lover to buy me from the Zoo, something Mr. Warehouse probably won't know until reading this the sweetheart!
So my holiday so far has been wonderful and very romantic given it Valentines weekend. Walking around Dublin with my other half is lovely but I am also looking forward to the next part of our trip which commences tomorrow, where Mr. Warehouse and I will head down to Southern Ireland near Kilkenny and visit my Aunt and Uncle and their farmyard animals in the thickness of the Irish countryside.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Now, I say strangely as they don't call it "The Green Isle" for nothing you know and every time I have ever visited it has always been dreary and raining. However my holiday so far with Mr. Warehouse has been brilliant. Obviously last week there was talk of getting my Ta-Ta's out, although I think that was slightly optimistic given the fact that the weather out here is about the same temperature as back home in Blighty, not very warm indeed - ergo, no Ta-Ta's out this holiday!
Lets start from the beginning shall we? So finishing work on Thursday at half day was as blissful as all half days usually are, although this one was manic as I had been up since 6am and had not stopped to sit down until I was either at work, the nail salon or the hairdressers! It was go-go-go from the moment I got up and after finishing my working (half) day it did not stop there as I continued my day collecting medication for Mr. Warehouse, posting parcels, sending letters, buying some last holiday bits, collecting some clothes and packing my case and that was not including the pampering disasters I had on the way. I arrived at the nail salon I went to just before Christmas to get my nails did which incidentally made no difference what-so-ever as they were chipped by the time I finished packing Thursday night in turn putting me in a foul mood to start with. And the foul mood didn't stop when I woke up on Friday morning ready for our afternoon flight from Birmingham International as the hair cut I had the previous day that looked lovely, if a little on the short side, I now discovered that in actual fact I had been given what can only be described as a wonky graduated bob resulting in me loosing more than double what I asked her to trim. Royally fucked off now I had no choice but to don my rat-tail extensions in the hope they looked relatively real. Sipping on a Caramel Latte from my beloved Tassimo I went through the days travel plans to get us to the airport, before getting dressed and ready to leave.
Getting to the airport I thought would not be as faffy as it was, however with a journey time of around three-hours from door to airport check-in I was exhausted already. The slow train was very, very slow and with a connection time of seven-minutes I was anxious to get there in good haste. Sitting in Birmingham International Airport I was excited to be finally a little closer to our holiday away, although regretful slightly that it wasn't somewhere more adventurous on the departure board.
Several hours and an uneventful flight later we touched down in what appeared to be a very grey and overcast Dublin. My hopes were not high and whilst I knew we were not going to be sweltering in forty-degree heat I so wanted Ireland to be the place where Mr. Warehouse fell in love with it as much as I have in my years of coming here. Whizzing through airport security as usual with only a glance at who we all were, Mr. Warehouse and I headed to the exit only to be told that since the bus had to leave on time we would have to wait for the next one which was only an 'Irish' five-minutes away. I say 'Irish' as Irish people seem to be on a different time-scale, something which I am more than accustomed to. An 'Irish' five minutes is more like twenty, very similar to the commonly used phrases 'I am on my way' and 'I just need to do my make-up'.
After waiting around for more than twenty 'Irish' minutes, we had arrived at our final destination, our hotel! Discovering our room was 202 in the heady heights of a five-storey Georgian town-house with no lift access Mr. Warehouse reluctantly grabbed the bags and headed for the stairwell. Our room was tiny, smaller than Mr. Warehouse's bedroom at his mothers house back home it was nicely decorated and was situated only a few moments from the hub of Dublin's City centre including shops, restaurants and tourist-y things! Our first evening in the city we had agreed would be a slow one, so we headed to the Tourist Information and paid upfront for a Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour, which is happening tonight - SO excited!
For dinner we had settled on a teeny-tiny burger joint called BoBos Burgers! Now everyone knows how much I love a good burger and believe me nothing could top my favourite place for burgers - London's Honest Burger! Last years first holiday to Lyon with Mr. Warehouse nearly toppled it with King Marcel, again feeding us on our first night to the French Foodie City! After reading on-line about how good this place was I knew I would have to try it out, and boy am I glad I did. I cannot recall the burger I had but in it was sweet red-onion chutney, a medium-rare Irish beef burger, yummy cheese, and other gorgeous ingredients! I opted for chips as well although after finishing my burger, I could only stomach a few fries. Feeling bad and after passing more than a handful of homeless people on our travels, I got the restaurant to bag them up ready for someone else's dinner tonight. Only a few metres down the street from the restaurant and outside a posh delicatessen, Mr. Warehouse and I spotted a homeless man who appeared to be asking for food and money. I bent down and explained that we were tourists and that after our meal just now we had not been able to eat all our chips (two buckets worth I might say adding up to over seven-euros). They were still warm and as I handed the grubby man the bag he continued to thank us, explaining that we were angels and that this was his dinner tonight. It was freezing out, not much more than one or two degrees so the fries in all fairness were probably nearly cold but for him we had possibly made his day and that is something money cant buy.
Saturday we travelled round on the tourist buses all day, attending the site of the Guinness Factory and walked past the Guinness hospital, set up by the Guinness family for the employees of the factory. The top two conditions doctors would see - Alcohol poisoning and sclerosis of the liver?! Enjoying our bus ride we headed back to the hotel to get ready for our all-Irish night out on the tiles in Dublin. The Temple Bar District of Dublin seemed to be the place to be and after heading into several pubs, having one drink at each we found ourselves at the end of the night in the same bar as we started at with the same Irish musicians as before. Drunk as Irish Husbands we headed for home collecting a McDonald's en-route (which tasted incredible I might add as my burger has crispy fried onions in it was amazing, although that might have been the umpteen ciders I had been drinking that evening) before we hailed a man with a bicycle-took-took to take us the ten minutes back to the hotel.
Waking up yesterday morning, Mr. Warehouse and I felt like the back-end of a Donkey with breath smelling much worse. Happy Valentines Day! Not being able to remember much that wasn't fuzzy or blurred, Dublin had well and truly fucked us in the bum. Hanging, I drank some water and took some paracetamol and got on with it whilst Mr. Warehouse groaned for about twenty minutes and then got over his hangover too. Boarding the bus we headed to Europe's third largest Zoo after London and Paris - Dublin Zoo of course! Walking around we saw babies such as Lion cubs, Elephants and Giraffes as well as their mommies and daddies too. Enjoying every bit of the day we ended it in the gift shop of all places where Mr. Warehouse bought me an adorable cuddly toy Lion - A romantic gesture I have always wanted a lover to buy me from the Zoo, something Mr. Warehouse probably won't know until reading this the sweetheart!
So my holiday so far has been wonderful and very romantic given it Valentines weekend. Walking around Dublin with my other half is lovely but I am also looking forward to the next part of our trip which commences tomorrow, where Mr. Warehouse and I will head down to Southern Ireland near Kilkenny and visit my Aunt and Uncle and their farmyard animals in the thickness of the Irish countryside.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 16 February 2015
L'amour est dans l'air!
Morning everybody,
Much love to one and all this week as Valentines day sent the women into a mushy mess because their four year old made them a card and men into a panicked frenzy at the local petrol station for lack of Chrysanthemum's. Yes I, as I am sure you know by now, am not one for spending an entire day showering others with love. I prefer to give them a little bit every day instead. But that didn't stop me and the Bae, Mr. Warehouse heading to the Big Smoke for some much needed QT!
Arriving at work Friday excited and anticipating the weekend ahead I soon realised that time was dragging. Finally though the clock struck three and with my trusty partner in crime I left my desk (including several piles of papers) and headed to the station. Boarding a packed train we made quiet small talk as we people watched men on laptops and couples clearly heading for the Eurostar. Jealous ... You betcha I was! "One Day" I thought "One Day I will finally go to Paris, even if I do go it alone."
Arriving into St. Pancras International, Mr. Warehouse and I hopped straight for the tubes and over to Soho for some dinner before heading back to our hotel room, for which we weren't holding out much hope. Drizzling and wet, London was lacking the glory and romance I had wished but as we settled after our meal I wasn't quiet ready to slip under the duvet just yet. Pouring with rain Mr. Warehouse and I navigated ourselves back to a bar we had seen earlier, Adventure Bar, and as I wrestled to the bar and ordered some cocktails I knew that this was probably one of the best spontaneous ideas I had ever had! Music coursing through the underground club and bodies everywhere we turned I watched Mr. Warehouse as he sipped his first cocktail called Bramble, a concoction of several spirits, fizzy champagne and soda over slippery glass-like ice cubes. Only being seven-thirty I was surprised it was so busy but was happy with the scene and only wished I had packed a pair of heels and a sexier top. Moments later that mood was somewhat destroyed when Justin Bieber came squeaking over the speakers. Yes, it was time to leave. So as I polished off my second cocktail I slipped the drinking vessel very sneakily into my handbag. Oh how I love a large tote. And oh how I love my new Martini Glass. But as my dearest love put it the other day "If you don't drink Martini's or even cocktails at home for that fact, why have you commandeered one?" Alas he is not the sharpest of tools in the box, but he knows not to question me when it comes to anything of alcoholic content.
Walking through the streets of Soho and Piccadilly I soon made the grave understanding of mine and Mr. Warehouse's journey back to the 'Hotel'. CityMapper explained that the quickest route to our Shepherds Bush accommodation was via the District line alighting at Stamford Brook, a station I am sure you are all well established in the knowledge that this was where the late Mr. Cheese used to live and his fit flatmate also. Nevertheless I tried to control my talk of years gone by and focused on the here and now with my wonderful if a little broke Mr. Warehouse. As Mr. Warehouse and I were informed of our final destination arriving soon we geared ourselves up for disaster.
"So is this the point in which you tell me that in actual fact we have a really nice double bedroom in a posh Chiswick hotel with views of the city" Mr. Warehouse asked, worried. And I wished that was the case. I had booked the room a few days in advance with the total coming to £34.00 for the both of us for one night. Being a twenty-minute walk from any tube line I expected the worst and when I discovered it was more of a studio flat than a hotel room I had booked, all did not seem well.
"At least it will be a giggle when we tell everyone at work?!" I said as we turned into the street. Deep, pungent smells of cannabis filled our throats as we struggled to find number fifty-seven. And as the houses became more tightly packed, gardens less blooming and exteriors ever increasingly daunting the prospect that this was a good idea was fading fast.
We were greeted at the door by a gentleman and shown to our room come studio. We both held hands and took a deep breath as he placed the key in the lock. But as he opened the door we both breathed a sigh of relief as the room, while not the most spacious was certainly large enough for what we needed. A under the counter fridge, kettle (with no tea or coffee) and a microwave complimented the wardrobe and super comfy double bed. A large walk in shower in a newly fitted bathroom inclusive of toilet and a stunning white, square butler sink. I was more than happy to sign away the paperwork and check-in.
Closing the door on the way out we giggled like school children as we bounced on the bed and explored our new surroundings. Feeling like virgins again we took mere minutes to test out the bed, but not before locking that front door - Don't want any more Australians walking on in now do we?!
As morning broke over London and Valentines day began we started our morning as every couple should, and in the best way. Morning Sex! Twice I think in the end. Rolling over though in a heated embrace we discussed our plans for the day and eventually decided on a visit to London Zoo. And after a much needed shower, Mr. Warehouse and I popped out for Breakfast at an old haunt of mine and Mr. Cheese's; Carluccios. Taking a leisurely stroll back to the tube and making our way over to the Zoo we took in the sights and scenes of the city and discussed what it would be like to live somewhere such as Fulham and the likes the leafy, laid-back suburbs of London; all with their white picket fences, fancy cars and four storey houses.
No sooner had we arrived through the gates of London Zoo though I was greeted by a small child. Yes. My Valentine, Mr. Warehouse, had turned into an excited six-year-old and all at the sight of a guide book and a cast iron Gorilla. "Today is going to be entertaining" I thought to myself as we joined hands and entered the wondrous world of animals great and small. We scared each other in the creepy crawlies and reptile house. We held hands and pointed in the Monkey enclosures. We even managed to have a cheeky little kiss in the Aquarium. Exhausted and being hoofed out the Zoo at closing time we walked through colourful houses and lanes to Camden where we were due to have a table already booked, ready and waiting for us. Anticipating a quick bite to eat and getting the train back to my cosy flat in Bedford ready for cuddles on the couch just in time Saturday night TV. Alas after more than thirty-minutes and no table reservation we were not happy. Seating a frustrated and tired 'Pooh Bear' (My pet name for Mr. Warehouse. I am his Piglet) I go off to angrily speak to the staff and after a word with management I was able to get our dinner sorted, although this did mean having to share our table with another couple and also it being another forty minute before food actually arrived.
Nevertheless it was a lovely Valentines, so much so Mr. Warehouse and I were even given a blessing by a Black man preaching about god and his holy ways on the way back to Kings Cross through Camden's Alternative scene. Suffice to say that this weekend was heavenly!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Much love to one and all this week as Valentines day sent the women into a mushy mess because their four year old made them a card and men into a panicked frenzy at the local petrol station for lack of Chrysanthemum's. Yes I, as I am sure you know by now, am not one for spending an entire day showering others with love. I prefer to give them a little bit every day instead. But that didn't stop me and the Bae, Mr. Warehouse heading to the Big Smoke for some much needed QT!
Arriving at work Friday excited and anticipating the weekend ahead I soon realised that time was dragging. Finally though the clock struck three and with my trusty partner in crime I left my desk (including several piles of papers) and headed to the station. Boarding a packed train we made quiet small talk as we people watched men on laptops and couples clearly heading for the Eurostar. Jealous ... You betcha I was! "One Day" I thought "One Day I will finally go to Paris, even if I do go it alone."
Arriving into St. Pancras International, Mr. Warehouse and I hopped straight for the tubes and over to Soho for some dinner before heading back to our hotel room, for which we weren't holding out much hope. Drizzling and wet, London was lacking the glory and romance I had wished but as we settled after our meal I wasn't quiet ready to slip under the duvet just yet. Pouring with rain Mr. Warehouse and I navigated ourselves back to a bar we had seen earlier, Adventure Bar, and as I wrestled to the bar and ordered some cocktails I knew that this was probably one of the best spontaneous ideas I had ever had! Music coursing through the underground club and bodies everywhere we turned I watched Mr. Warehouse as he sipped his first cocktail called Bramble, a concoction of several spirits, fizzy champagne and soda over slippery glass-like ice cubes. Only being seven-thirty I was surprised it was so busy but was happy with the scene and only wished I had packed a pair of heels and a sexier top. Moments later that mood was somewhat destroyed when Justin Bieber came squeaking over the speakers. Yes, it was time to leave. So as I polished off my second cocktail I slipped the drinking vessel very sneakily into my handbag. Oh how I love a large tote. And oh how I love my new Martini Glass. But as my dearest love put it the other day "If you don't drink Martini's or even cocktails at home for that fact, why have you commandeered one?" Alas he is not the sharpest of tools in the box, but he knows not to question me when it comes to anything of alcoholic content.
Walking through the streets of Soho and Piccadilly I soon made the grave understanding of mine and Mr. Warehouse's journey back to the 'Hotel'. CityMapper explained that the quickest route to our Shepherds Bush accommodation was via the District line alighting at Stamford Brook, a station I am sure you are all well established in the knowledge that this was where the late Mr. Cheese used to live and his fit flatmate also. Nevertheless I tried to control my talk of years gone by and focused on the here and now with my wonderful if a little broke Mr. Warehouse. As Mr. Warehouse and I were informed of our final destination arriving soon we geared ourselves up for disaster.
"So is this the point in which you tell me that in actual fact we have a really nice double bedroom in a posh Chiswick hotel with views of the city" Mr. Warehouse asked, worried. And I wished that was the case. I had booked the room a few days in advance with the total coming to £34.00 for the both of us for one night. Being a twenty-minute walk from any tube line I expected the worst and when I discovered it was more of a studio flat than a hotel room I had booked, all did not seem well.
"At least it will be a giggle when we tell everyone at work?!" I said as we turned into the street. Deep, pungent smells of cannabis filled our throats as we struggled to find number fifty-seven. And as the houses became more tightly packed, gardens less blooming and exteriors ever increasingly daunting the prospect that this was a good idea was fading fast.
We were greeted at the door by a gentleman and shown to our room come studio. We both held hands and took a deep breath as he placed the key in the lock. But as he opened the door we both breathed a sigh of relief as the room, while not the most spacious was certainly large enough for what we needed. A under the counter fridge, kettle (with no tea or coffee) and a microwave complimented the wardrobe and super comfy double bed. A large walk in shower in a newly fitted bathroom inclusive of toilet and a stunning white, square butler sink. I was more than happy to sign away the paperwork and check-in.
Closing the door on the way out we giggled like school children as we bounced on the bed and explored our new surroundings. Feeling like virgins again we took mere minutes to test out the bed, but not before locking that front door - Don't want any more Australians walking on in now do we?!
As morning broke over London and Valentines day began we started our morning as every couple should, and in the best way. Morning Sex! Twice I think in the end. Rolling over though in a heated embrace we discussed our plans for the day and eventually decided on a visit to London Zoo. And after a much needed shower, Mr. Warehouse and I popped out for Breakfast at an old haunt of mine and Mr. Cheese's; Carluccios. Taking a leisurely stroll back to the tube and making our way over to the Zoo we took in the sights and scenes of the city and discussed what it would be like to live somewhere such as Fulham and the likes the leafy, laid-back suburbs of London; all with their white picket fences, fancy cars and four storey houses.
No sooner had we arrived through the gates of London Zoo though I was greeted by a small child. Yes. My Valentine, Mr. Warehouse, had turned into an excited six-year-old and all at the sight of a guide book and a cast iron Gorilla. "Today is going to be entertaining" I thought to myself as we joined hands and entered the wondrous world of animals great and small. We scared each other in the creepy crawlies and reptile house. We held hands and pointed in the Monkey enclosures. We even managed to have a cheeky little kiss in the Aquarium. Exhausted and being hoofed out the Zoo at closing time we walked through colourful houses and lanes to Camden where we were due to have a table already booked, ready and waiting for us. Anticipating a quick bite to eat and getting the train back to my cosy flat in Bedford ready for cuddles on the couch just in time Saturday night TV. Alas after more than thirty-minutes and no table reservation we were not happy. Seating a frustrated and tired 'Pooh Bear' (My pet name for Mr. Warehouse. I am his Piglet) I go off to angrily speak to the staff and after a word with management I was able to get our dinner sorted, although this did mean having to share our table with another couple and also it being another forty minute before food actually arrived.
Nevertheless it was a lovely Valentines, so much so Mr. Warehouse and I were even given a blessing by a Black man preaching about god and his holy ways on the way back to Kings Cross through Camden's Alternative scene. Suffice to say that this weekend was heavenly!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 8 September 2014
Ego Vobis Valedico (I Say Goodbye To You)
Hello there,
So one week on and a slight emotional roller-coaster as always (would you expect anything less from me?) but nevertheless I have been able to suck it up and get on with it. Unfortunately I have not yet been on Date number two with Mr. ToyBoy as yet however there is no need to rush into things as I am sure we will have plenty of time - Until I die before he does as a result of before mentioned age gap, Haha.
And so with no Date planned with anybody else either I saw my week moderately filled up with social meetings, cinema trips and hanging out with friends. Even managed to squeeze in a little trip to the Zoo with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Pea - Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little Sister. Well I say little but at eighteen she is the same age as my Brother but that doesn't stop me thinking of her as the baby of the pack. My weekend was spent having makeshift facials (Nothing filthy you - Just Miss Tweedle-Dumb lathering my face with a moist, creamy substance), being pestered into going to the Zoo to see monkeys by Miss Tweedle-Dee and company and then on top of all of that being told that I have no maternal instinct and should never be allowed to be around children under the age of twelve. Thanks Guys! Sometimes I wonder how lucky I am to have friends with such confidence in me being a parent one day. Really, Haha! But the week wasn't always so jovial and light. There was a dark cloud that hung over yesterday (Sunday) that had been grimacing since Thursday, a storm I knew was coming and one which I had prepared in every way I could and knew how to ...
Rushing through my workload I realised come midday that my 'in' tray was empty. I had boshed through my pile of papers on my desk so hard I was now sat here twiddling my digits. Taking an early lunch I messaged my dinner date and checked in on my Tinder's. As a final farewell and in all honesty a last ditch attempt at getting laid I had invited Mr. Cheese over for dinner and a film at my apartment although I think we both knew that two bottles of our favourite Rose and my warm orange sofa would soon make the film seem like the less entertaining option. Returning to my desk I pottered around the rest of my working day keeping myself busy until the clock hit five and it was home-time for me! Snatching at my coat and scurrying off the bathroom to apply my war paint I was soon ready and waiting outside the office under my window awaiting the blue bug to come bumbling round the corner into the now quiet industrial estate. Adjusting my pink 1950's skirt and leather jacket I then lit a cigarette cockily thinking to myself that what did I care if he went out to Ghana for quarter of a year and met some blonde bimbo called Sarah-Jane, I was way out of his league anyway. I needed something real. After a good twenty-minutes of bigging myself up and yet again checking my dating profiles for potential suitors in the hope that Mr. ToyBoy would message me back more frequently than he was a car pulled into the parking lot. Climbing in I went to lean in for a kiss only to realise stupidly that this was not the etiquette now Mr. Cheese and I were no longer dating.
Pulling away we chatted about our days and as we crossed the river into town I looked out at the water that once blossomed our relationship but now is a source of life for something new. I smiled at the irony as a voice asked what I had been up to since we had last met. "Is it a good idea to tell my ex that I have met someone new?" I thought to myself. I decided 'no' but only because it would inevitably lead round to the question "Well I have - Have you?" and in all honesty I just didn't want to hear about the dates that he had been on. Ignorance is bliss they say and I wasn't going to spoil my chances of a spoon. Letting ourselves into my flat I listened to some of the pompous and frankly upper-class snobbery that was vacating Mr. Cheese's mouth. I knew he was posh but fuck me! Maybe this was for the better?!
Plating up I donned the table with condiments and nice cutlery as Mr. Cheese topped up my wine glass. Sitting down to dinner and without thinking I let him take the floor with conversation. Avoiding his gaze and not really listening to him I acknowledged more the view from my window across the rooftops of Suburbia. Conversation soon switched though and became about that dreaded subject - Us! Talking honestly and openly I again gave him the space he clearly needed to express about our failed relationship. On noting just that - Another one of my failed relationships - I was told that Mr. Cheese did not see it as a failure but as something that had to happen. Fate almost. Disregarding his philosophy I reached for bottle number two at this point and retreated to the sofa, changing the subjects to something a little less depressing than my lack of a normal relationship that wasn't between myself and Cadburys. As the liquid-relaxant kept flowing and I slid on my new heel's making me now taller than my 6ft-Ex we soon noticed that the fiery couch was up to its old tricks again.
Etching closer I knew more than both of us the painful implications in which this would end but tossing them aside along with other undergarments we retreated to the bedroom, lead only by the flickering flames of the all hallowed Yankee Candle in a sickly sweet Salted Caramel flavour. After a short period of teasing we got on with it only for me to wonder why I was here again. As we lay panting, my head on Mr. Cheese's chest I played with his chest wig one last time bidding it a silence goodbye from behind my lashes. Running my fingers over his sternum was something that had always comforted me and now this was the last time. For ever. I knew that when he walked out that door in the morning it would be the last time we ever saw each other again. But at least we would fall asleep together. At least I would have one more morning waking up to him right beside me. Wrong! Mr. Cheese soon made the statement that he was sleeping at his Grandma's that night and as a result could not stay the night. All my preparation had gone out with window. This was something I did not have a contingency plan for!
Feeling myself loose my grip on the situation I fought within myself, a constant battle that continued for almost an hour. Back and fourth I grappled between telling him to fuck the fuck off and begging his to stay, the later only brought back the scorching pain of the moment Mr. Workaholic left me. I knew that once he left I would be alone once more with only my mind and TV to keep me company. Feeling anxious at the prospect of spending the night alone I pulled on his arm to keep him from getting dressed. When told that Mr. Cheese was leaving I responded by lashing out. This went on until the Cab arrived to take him away. In the knowledge of its stationary position outside my door I sat on my bed, cross-legged and naked. I was as bare as a human could be. Almost as a metaphor to our relationship I had yet again laid myself open to him, open as a book and had poured my heart out presenting my soul as an offering and yet it still wasn't enough.
Making a promise to myself never to get to this point again, I let my head know once more that I was going to be OK. As Mr. Cheese perched himself on the end of my bed I tried one last attempt to make him call off the Taxi. He declined in apology. Starting an obviously well-rehearsed soliloquy with how I should remember how beautiful and special I am, I rested my fingers on his soft lips, putting the goodbye to an end. Even though I knew that this was the end and that it was for ever a goodbye in ever sense of the word, I did not want to hear them. Not now. Not ever. I had accepted it in my head, but hearing it from a different voice to my own would only make it more real. As Mr. Cheese and I stared into eyes that were filling, for the first time mine broke first. Wiping my cheek I took off my silver St. Christopher's and placed it over the head of hair I had come to know and love, explaining that St. Christopher was the patron saint of travel and would keep him safe on his own adventures.
"But it's yours ... " Said Mr. Cheese, sobbing too.
"It was never mine" I replied lovingly with a small smile. Holding each other in a tight embrace I swore that this was the end and that tomorrow would be a fresh chapter in the novel of me. As my front door clicked I raced to the skylight pushing it wide open, breathing in the crisp night air. Mr. Cheese looked up. Whether he saw me or not I don't know but that was the last time I ever saw him. Watching the lights of the Cab drive off down the quiet street I stood looking out across the navy sky for a long time. Watching. Waiting. Hoping that he would come back. But Mr. Cheese didn't. He never did. And so I poured myself a Screwdriver to ease the pain only to shun it moments later realising I had poured it into the glass Mr. Cheese had drank from hours earlier. Curling up on my trusty settee I spent the entire night trying in-vain to sleep. I couldn't. I wanted to, even just for a little bit, just to pretend this was all a bad dream. It wasn't. This was reality now. My reality. And yet again I was alone.
But this time it was different. I was in my flat. With my sofa and my bed. They belonged to me not Mr. Cheese. So why was I letting him get the better of me. Consulting a friend most the night we chatted into the small hours and when the frosty sun finally broke through the Friday morning fog I knew that work would bring forward a purpose and something to occupy my brain. After no sleep at all I threw on something from my wardrobe not bothering to dress up for the office today. I needed comfort and if I found it in a pair of baggy jeans, soft jumper and Converse then so be it.
The days have passed tediously and yesterday alone seemed painfully slow to end. Despite me having a good time with close friends and enjoying a wonderfully impromptu day out watching Chimpanzee's scratch their arse and Elephants defecating in front of a live audience, I couldn't help but notice the hours ticking down to the moment in which Mr. Cheese and I would no longer be on the same continent let alone breathing in the same air. Last night though on my way home and before I put the key in my door I looked up at the moon, as I did with the sun today, and comforted myself in the knowledge that it we would both be looking at the same thing.
I'm not saying that I should never trust any more people with my heart or that I will never fall in love again. I'm only stating that next time I would prefer it to be real and something in which I can grow and nurture, not something that needs constant attention and weeding to keep healthy. And so my final closing statement is one of joy and thoughtfulness. To the person four-thousand, four-hundred and eighty-five miles away staring at that same ball of light in the sky I ask you - Did you pack your bag yourself?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So one week on and a slight emotional roller-coaster as always (would you expect anything less from me?) but nevertheless I have been able to suck it up and get on with it. Unfortunately I have not yet been on Date number two with Mr. ToyBoy as yet however there is no need to rush into things as I am sure we will have plenty of time - Until I die before he does as a result of before mentioned age gap, Haha.
And so with no Date planned with anybody else either I saw my week moderately filled up with social meetings, cinema trips and hanging out with friends. Even managed to squeeze in a little trip to the Zoo with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Pea - Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little Sister. Well I say little but at eighteen she is the same age as my Brother but that doesn't stop me thinking of her as the baby of the pack. My weekend was spent having makeshift facials (Nothing filthy you - Just Miss Tweedle-Dumb lathering my face with a moist, creamy substance), being pestered into going to the Zoo to see monkeys by Miss Tweedle-Dee and company and then on top of all of that being told that I have no maternal instinct and should never be allowed to be around children under the age of twelve. Thanks Guys! Sometimes I wonder how lucky I am to have friends with such confidence in me being a parent one day. Really, Haha! But the week wasn't always so jovial and light. There was a dark cloud that hung over yesterday (Sunday) that had been grimacing since Thursday, a storm I knew was coming and one which I had prepared in every way I could and knew how to ...
Rushing through my workload I realised come midday that my 'in' tray was empty. I had boshed through my pile of papers on my desk so hard I was now sat here twiddling my digits. Taking an early lunch I messaged my dinner date and checked in on my Tinder's. As a final farewell and in all honesty a last ditch attempt at getting laid I had invited Mr. Cheese over for dinner and a film at my apartment although I think we both knew that two bottles of our favourite Rose and my warm orange sofa would soon make the film seem like the less entertaining option. Returning to my desk I pottered around the rest of my working day keeping myself busy until the clock hit five and it was home-time for me! Snatching at my coat and scurrying off the bathroom to apply my war paint I was soon ready and waiting outside the office under my window awaiting the blue bug to come bumbling round the corner into the now quiet industrial estate. Adjusting my pink 1950's skirt and leather jacket I then lit a cigarette cockily thinking to myself that what did I care if he went out to Ghana for quarter of a year and met some blonde bimbo called Sarah-Jane, I was way out of his league anyway. I needed something real. After a good twenty-minutes of bigging myself up and yet again checking my dating profiles for potential suitors in the hope that Mr. ToyBoy would message me back more frequently than he was a car pulled into the parking lot. Climbing in I went to lean in for a kiss only to realise stupidly that this was not the etiquette now Mr. Cheese and I were no longer dating.
Pulling away we chatted about our days and as we crossed the river into town I looked out at the water that once blossomed our relationship but now is a source of life for something new. I smiled at the irony as a voice asked what I had been up to since we had last met. "Is it a good idea to tell my ex that I have met someone new?" I thought to myself. I decided 'no' but only because it would inevitably lead round to the question "Well I have - Have you?" and in all honesty I just didn't want to hear about the dates that he had been on. Ignorance is bliss they say and I wasn't going to spoil my chances of a spoon. Letting ourselves into my flat I listened to some of the pompous and frankly upper-class snobbery that was vacating Mr. Cheese's mouth. I knew he was posh but fuck me! Maybe this was for the better?!
Plating up I donned the table with condiments and nice cutlery as Mr. Cheese topped up my wine glass. Sitting down to dinner and without thinking I let him take the floor with conversation. Avoiding his gaze and not really listening to him I acknowledged more the view from my window across the rooftops of Suburbia. Conversation soon switched though and became about that dreaded subject - Us! Talking honestly and openly I again gave him the space he clearly needed to express about our failed relationship. On noting just that - Another one of my failed relationships - I was told that Mr. Cheese did not see it as a failure but as something that had to happen. Fate almost. Disregarding his philosophy I reached for bottle number two at this point and retreated to the sofa, changing the subjects to something a little less depressing than my lack of a normal relationship that wasn't between myself and Cadburys. As the liquid-relaxant kept flowing and I slid on my new heel's making me now taller than my 6ft-Ex we soon noticed that the fiery couch was up to its old tricks again.
Etching closer I knew more than both of us the painful implications in which this would end but tossing them aside along with other undergarments we retreated to the bedroom, lead only by the flickering flames of the all hallowed Yankee Candle in a sickly sweet Salted Caramel flavour. After a short period of teasing we got on with it only for me to wonder why I was here again. As we lay panting, my head on Mr. Cheese's chest I played with his chest wig one last time bidding it a silence goodbye from behind my lashes. Running my fingers over his sternum was something that had always comforted me and now this was the last time. For ever. I knew that when he walked out that door in the morning it would be the last time we ever saw each other again. But at least we would fall asleep together. At least I would have one more morning waking up to him right beside me. Wrong! Mr. Cheese soon made the statement that he was sleeping at his Grandma's that night and as a result could not stay the night. All my preparation had gone out with window. This was something I did not have a contingency plan for!
Feeling myself loose my grip on the situation I fought within myself, a constant battle that continued for almost an hour. Back and fourth I grappled between telling him to fuck the fuck off and begging his to stay, the later only brought back the scorching pain of the moment Mr. Workaholic left me. I knew that once he left I would be alone once more with only my mind and TV to keep me company. Feeling anxious at the prospect of spending the night alone I pulled on his arm to keep him from getting dressed. When told that Mr. Cheese was leaving I responded by lashing out. This went on until the Cab arrived to take him away. In the knowledge of its stationary position outside my door I sat on my bed, cross-legged and naked. I was as bare as a human could be. Almost as a metaphor to our relationship I had yet again laid myself open to him, open as a book and had poured my heart out presenting my soul as an offering and yet it still wasn't enough.
Making a promise to myself never to get to this point again, I let my head know once more that I was going to be OK. As Mr. Cheese perched himself on the end of my bed I tried one last attempt to make him call off the Taxi. He declined in apology. Starting an obviously well-rehearsed soliloquy with how I should remember how beautiful and special I am, I rested my fingers on his soft lips, putting the goodbye to an end. Even though I knew that this was the end and that it was for ever a goodbye in ever sense of the word, I did not want to hear them. Not now. Not ever. I had accepted it in my head, but hearing it from a different voice to my own would only make it more real. As Mr. Cheese and I stared into eyes that were filling, for the first time mine broke first. Wiping my cheek I took off my silver St. Christopher's and placed it over the head of hair I had come to know and love, explaining that St. Christopher was the patron saint of travel and would keep him safe on his own adventures.
"But it's yours ... " Said Mr. Cheese, sobbing too.
"It was never mine" I replied lovingly with a small smile. Holding each other in a tight embrace I swore that this was the end and that tomorrow would be a fresh chapter in the novel of me. As my front door clicked I raced to the skylight pushing it wide open, breathing in the crisp night air. Mr. Cheese looked up. Whether he saw me or not I don't know but that was the last time I ever saw him. Watching the lights of the Cab drive off down the quiet street I stood looking out across the navy sky for a long time. Watching. Waiting. Hoping that he would come back. But Mr. Cheese didn't. He never did. And so I poured myself a Screwdriver to ease the pain only to shun it moments later realising I had poured it into the glass Mr. Cheese had drank from hours earlier. Curling up on my trusty settee I spent the entire night trying in-vain to sleep. I couldn't. I wanted to, even just for a little bit, just to pretend this was all a bad dream. It wasn't. This was reality now. My reality. And yet again I was alone.
But this time it was different. I was in my flat. With my sofa and my bed. They belonged to me not Mr. Cheese. So why was I letting him get the better of me. Consulting a friend most the night we chatted into the small hours and when the frosty sun finally broke through the Friday morning fog I knew that work would bring forward a purpose and something to occupy my brain. After no sleep at all I threw on something from my wardrobe not bothering to dress up for the office today. I needed comfort and if I found it in a pair of baggy jeans, soft jumper and Converse then so be it.
The days have passed tediously and yesterday alone seemed painfully slow to end. Despite me having a good time with close friends and enjoying a wonderfully impromptu day out watching Chimpanzee's scratch their arse and Elephants defecating in front of a live audience, I couldn't help but notice the hours ticking down to the moment in which Mr. Cheese and I would no longer be on the same continent let alone breathing in the same air. Last night though on my way home and before I put the key in my door I looked up at the moon, as I did with the sun today, and comforted myself in the knowledge that it we would both be looking at the same thing.
I'm not saying that I should never trust any more people with my heart or that I will never fall in love again. I'm only stating that next time I would prefer it to be real and something in which I can grow and nurture, not something that needs constant attention and weeding to keep healthy. And so my final closing statement is one of joy and thoughtfulness. To the person four-thousand, four-hundred and eighty-five miles away staring at that same ball of light in the sky I ask you - Did you pack your bag yourself?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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