lifestylesupportguru

Category: Pub

Going on Holiday

A very good day to you from the Lifestyle Support Guru! Having just returned from Tenerife, I felt I should share some hints and tips on how to make the most of your holiday, especially since not all of you are on permanent holiday like I am, so you need to ensure that you don’t waste any of your valuable time.
1. Don’t just throw your make-up bag into your carry-on case at the last minute (boys, I’m talking to you, too) – I didn’t know that mascara counts as a liquid – and nor did I know that roll-on deodorant had to be ‘declared’ either. Take it from me that it is NOT possible to fit five mascara wands, a roll-on deodorant, a tube of toothpaste, a small bottle of shower gel and a small bottle of body lotion into one of those small airport plastic bags, although the Customs woman tried her best. In the end, she split the items into two bags and gave DOT (Dai of Tanzania/Turkey, although we’re still not too sure about the latter at the moment) the one with the mascara, girly-smelling shower gel and body lotion to carry through security. How I laughed!
2. Once you are seated in the airport bar, make sure you have a stiff drink in front of you to help cope with the trauma of:
a) Suddenly realising that you hadn’t done the last thing on your list of ‘things to do before I go on holiday’, which was ‘empty the fridge’ and that you will now return to some manky mushrooms and beans and sausages, which you’d been intending to use up for the last few days. There is also milk in there…
b) Receiving a text from the company from which you’d ordered a sofa several weeks ago to say that it was ready for delivery and asking you to ring to arrange a date. You ring and explain that you are about to board a plane…
c) Looking up at the television in the bar and finding that Theresa May has become Prime Minister!
And all this has happened before you’ve even left the country!

Real Ale

Whilst on holiday, do make sure that you book a place at the Brazilian Fiesta Night at the hotel (although I never did find out why Spanish Tenerife had a Brazilian Night?). This will afford many opportunities for entertainment and fun, especially if you are seated on a table with some Germans. Since the price included unlimited alcohol (ha! I knew you were wondering why I would have opted for a Brazilian Night!), we fully expected the Germans to be sinking stein after stein of beer, but they managed one pint and one small glass of wine between four of them and then left early – one can only assume to get their towels ready for an early start on the sunbeds. DOT and I, however, made sure that we made the most of the local alcohol before Brexit kicks in and makes it too expensive to go on holiday.
The ‘Brazilian’ dancers didn’t look very Brazilian – I think they had come via the nearby west coast of Africa – and they weren’t necessarily chosen for their dance ability either, but they were VERY enthusiastic; DOT said the girl would have achieved a borderline C/D in GCSE Dance, but an A for GCSE Legs. What a wag!! How I laughed!
There was then a trio of singers who didn’t look very Brazilian either and nor did their repertoire of songs sound Brazilian, unless ‘Happy’ and ‘Uptown Funk’ derived from that country? Who am I to query such matters? But how I laughed!
The price included food – unfortunately, the dessert was chocolate brownie and ice cream, neither of which is a favourite of the LSG, but DOT did well out of it. I didn’t do too badly either – I swapped my dessert for his Cava… How I laughed!
And finally, be sure to go on a jeep safari up the highest mountain in Spain (not on the mainland, obviously), if only to give some serious respect to the drivers who took those Land Rovers up almost vertical paths – even the Welsh would be impressed with their hill starts! This day out also offers you the opportunity to get burned to a crisp because the air is thinner, being so high up, so less protection from those naughty little rays of sunshine… and you forgot to put the sun screen in your bag. How I laughed!

If nothing else, make sure that you laugh! 🙂

Oop North at Halifax

The Lifestyle Support Guru is on a quest to introduce you to places you should visit before you die and Halifax is on the list. ‘Why Halifax?’ you ask. ‘Why not?’ I reply. There is, in fact, a very mundane explanation – I don’t like leaving the cats for more than 24 hours without some human interaction (it’s called ‘cleaning out the litter tray’), so somewhere within a 2-hour drive is ideal. And I like going ‘oop north’ – it’s another country! In fact, it’s another world!

Sheffield

The first thing that took me by surprise (just after Sheffield, which is where I consider ‘the North’ starts) was passing an Audi driver on the motorway who was in the nearside lane, even though there was plenty of space in the other three lanes. I have never seen this before although, sadly, I didn’t see any Volvo, Merc or BMW drivers following this brilliant example.
The satnav was set to take me to Halifax via the excellently-named Netherthong – how can you not go to a place with such a wonderful name? – so imagine my delight when I found there was an Upperthong as well! When I got out of the car at the top of a very steep hill in Upperthong to greet TOFU (Trefor of ‘Ull), I could fully understand why you would need both upper AND nether thongs (and preferably fur-lined) – the wind was a tad chilly in all quarters.
Having visited Barnsley on a Bank Holiday weekend, TOFU and I were not completely taken by

hot cocoa

surprise in Halifax because it’s very similar – there’s just more of it. TOFU remarked that we seemed to have arrived ‘late to the party’ at 8 in the evening. One young lady on the dance floor in the first pub we entered had obviously consumed more than the recommended number of alcohol units and another young lady was more interested in watching her own boobs jiggle about as she sat bouncing to the music. Personally, I find a cup of hot cocoa more enthralling.
The next pub had karaoke in full swing when we walked in – ‘Kingston Town’ sung by Halifax’s answer to Orville is something that will stay with me for a long time, along with the young man dancing next to our table displaying a ‘Top Man’ waistband on his underpants. If you must

boxer shorts

display where you buy your underpants, at least go with fake Calvin Kleins, daaahlings.
We then headed to the nearest Wetherspoon’s, even though we knew we would have to spend a long time waiting to get served by staff who have never learned to smile. (I have only ever been in one Wetherspoon’s pub where I was greeted civilly, served quickly and with a smile – and that was because she was an ex-pupil!) However, the pull of a pub without techno-trance dance music or karaoke sung by Orville was, I have to say, irresistible.

There is some class in Halifax – TOFU heard one young woman ask for a bottle of rosé… with a

Joie de Vivre

pint glass. His immortal comment, however, once we were seated, was ‘There’s a lot more flesh on display than perhaps there should be,’ as yet another person in shorts/hot pants passed us. I replied that that was perhaps why the textile industry failed in this area because people don’t wear enough of it. No fashion judgements were being made, you understand.
The night ended with that famous quote: “When a man is tired of Halifax, he is tired of life; for there is in Halifax all that life can afford.” ‘Who said that?’ asked TOFU. ‘Boris Johnson,’ I replied.

And the next stop on the LSG’s world tour? Who knows? Suggestions are welcome – as long as it’s within a 90-mile radius of Derby so that I can carry out my litter-cleaning duties!

Around the World with the Lifestyle Support Guru

Alfreton by Dave Bevis

I realised I hadn’t dispensed any advice for a little while and I worry about my devoted followers drifting along life’s meandering streams without the benefit of sound guidance. Therefore, in a bid to open your eyes and minds to the wonders of the world around us, I have travelled far and wide and I am overjoyed to be able to introduce you to the wonders and delights of… Alfreton (or Olfreton, as the locals say, for some unknown reason).
Alfreton is a former mining town (going back to my roots) in Derbyshire; on the website about the town, it stated that there were 10 pubs in the town centre, which seemed as good a reason as any for visiting and spending a night there (and a cheap hotel deal helped), so off I set to meet up with youngest sibling (siblings really are such useful creatures at times).
The first thing you need to know is that time has no meaning in Alfreton – it exists in a space-time continuum which may have been the inspiration for Dr Who. This is particularly the case with taxis, where ten minutes turns into forty. (Actually, I think there may only be one taxi in the town.)
Secondly, I don’t think they can have had any ‘numeracy hours’ in Alfreton schools because there were nowhere near 10 pubs in the town centre – more like three! The first pub had a DJ and disco, complete with glitter ball, and a clientele with an average age of 60 – and it was only that low because sibling and I walked in.
The second pub described itself as ‘a traditional pub’ – that depends entirely on your definition of ‘traditional’, of course. If you have a picture of a quaint pub with a roaring fire and locals drinking pints of real ale, try again. It was actually the locals who were roaring, not the fire.
You may decide to try a local Chinese restaurant which comes highly recommended – once again the ‘time-space continuum’ comes into play because we had the fastest service ever and there was one point when I thought they were going to remove our plates before we’d even finished eating!

Sauvignon Blanc

After this fine dining experience, you decide to try the relative sophistication of the nearby Wetherspoons and ask what dry white wines they have. The barman reels off a list: ‘Do you want Shiraz, Merlot, Malbec or Cabernet Sauvignon?’ You gently reply, with a small smile, ‘Those aren’t white wines.’ ‘Oh, aren’t they?’ says the barman. ‘What colour did you ask for?’ Sigh.
And then you return to the ‘space-time continuum’ as you find that the local taxis (or rather, taxi – singular) seem to stop working after 11 on a Friday night, so it’s time for a quick yomp (or slow in the LSG’s case) back to the hotel, entering the grounds via a gap in the hedge to save having to walk all the way round to the proper entrance. You just hope that no one is watching you from their room as you clamber through the hedge and scramble up a grassy slope towards the hotel.
And that, dear devotees, is Alfreton done and dusted. The next stop on my whirlwind tour of ‘places to visit before you die’ is Halifax. Can’t wait!
PS The people of Alfreton were very friendly and helpful. Even when the aforementioned sibling asked in a local pub if there were any good places to eat, ignoring the carvery directly in front of him, the landlady’s smile never faltered!

Morris The Mole Goes On A Trip.

The REAL Mole

After the excitement of ‘meeting’ Morris the Mole (aka Freddie the Freckle/Neville the Nevus) last week, it fell to your beloved Lifestyle Support Guru to take him on a visit to Sheffield Eye Clinic at the request of Derby Eye Clinic. Sheffield wanted to see him at 8.45 IN THE MORNING! Morris hadn’t even learned that such a time existed, so it was decided to travel to Sheffield the night before. Actually, the idea was to set off during the day and possibly fit in a little shopping, but this excellent plan was foiled from the start because it seemed a good idea to set up a new wireless printer before setting off… (it’s still not working)

Train accident

Upon arrival at the station, we found that the train was delayed because, as it was clearly announced over the sound system, ‘someone has been hit by a train in Bedford’. Now, I know we can all get cross when delays aren’t explained, but the LSG felt that this was perhaps a little bit TOO much information!
Upon arrival in Sheffield, it was rather nice to be greeted by a chap playing a piano in the station foyer (Lara’s Theme from Dr Zhivago) while a drunk sat in a corner watching him with a silly grin on his face and a can of super-strength lager in his hand. Such a welcoming and homely picture!

inebriated

The hotel was pleasant enough, although Morris and I were rather glad not to have been placed in Room 101, which was tucked away by itself in a corner of the corridor. I could swear I heard cries for help coming from there as we walked past…
Since the sun was now well over the yardarm, we decided to venture out to a local nearby hostelry which looked rather cosy and quaint from the outside. Upon entering said hostelry, Morris and I found ourselves in the company of one of the strangest group of people ever seen (outside one or two dodgy pubs in Derby where they have their own alien subculture). Most (if not all) of the clientele AND the bar staff had clearly exceeded the government guidelines on alcohol consumption and the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ ‘Californication’ was playing on the jukebox, even though the average age was about 60; this was immediately followed by ‘Coward of the County’, with everyone joining in the chorus. Such fun!
The next morning, we got a taxi to the Eye Clinic, being regaled on the way by the taxi driver’s tales of his own continuing eye problems (not really what you want to hear from a driver!) and telling us how Sheffield is ‘a lovely city’, apart from one area where the local youths enjoy throwing bricks at taxis. He seemed to think that leaving Europe was the only solution to this problem…

Morris The Mole

The return train journey was fairly uneventful, with no announcements of people being hit by trains or other large objects.
A friend texted me to ask if Morris was going be evicted or would we be cohabiting, to which I replied that we would be cohabiting since Morris is a friendly mole (i.e. benign). My only hope is that Derby City Council doesn’t find out and take away my single person’s council tax rebate!

And that was the end of Morris’s ‘awfully big adventure’!

Drinking Guidelines

Drinks!

A very good afternoon to you all. I have been asked by several (well, two, actually) followers for my thoughts on the latest government guidelines on drinking. I have thought long and hard about the official advice that men should reduce their maximum units from 21 to 14, in line with the recommended maximum units for women. Now, my first thought was that 14 units a day was ample, whether male or female, but I then realised that the recommendation was 14 units a WEEK! A WEEK! Good grief, how on earth do they imagine that ‘ordinary, working class people’ will manage on that?
You have to consider that a normal, stressful Monday will require the consumption of at least 4 units at the end of the day and that Fabulous Friday feeling will require a further four, perhaps even five, to fuel you for the weekend. This leaves you with, at most, six units for the whole weekend. Now, assuming that you wish to enjoy your Saturday night, this will demand another four units, which leaves you with two units for Sunday and nothing for the remaining weekdays. How will one cope with Tearful Tuesday, Woeful Wednesday and Thoroughly Miserable Thursday?

Raise Up

On top of that, the government has spent years trying to give parity between men and women in terms of pay and pensions by raising women’s salaries and women’s pension age to come in line with men’s. Why, suddenly, have they decided to bring men DOWN to the women’s level? That is just so UNFAIR? Raise women UP, don’t bring men DOWN!

And on that note of bringing men or women down or up (a fairly tenuous link, I must admit), I’m afraid I have to express some concern at an acquaintance (who may or may not be small and from Yorkshire and mentioned in previous posts) who cast doubt on the LSG’s ability to answer quiz questions. WHAT??? This was in spite of the fact that I had introduced him to pizzas without cheese (since he is allergic to it) and it was the first time he’d ever eaten a pizza. ‘INGRATITUDE is the worst of vices’, according to that well known 17th-century clergyman

Quiz Team

Thomas Fuller, so imagine how hurt I was when I (casually) mentioned that I had (unexpectedly) answered 12-15 questions correctly on a Christmas edition of University Challenge, including ones that the teams didn’t get right, and the Tiny Tyke (TT for short) said that everyone knows the questions on Celebrity Mastermind are easier. Followers, I gave him my TEACHER LOOK and said, coldly, ‘University Challenge, TT, NOT Celebrity Mastermind.’ Silence followed as he chewed at his cheeseless pizza.

A similar thing happened at the local pub quiz last night. The category was countries whose names ended in a vowel and the question was ‘Which country’s nickname is the ‘Hexagon’?’ Any teacher of French will know the answer straight away and I whispered the answer to TT to write down, but imagine my surprise when someone next to us (not taking part in the quiz and who, so I’m told, speaks several languages but clearly doesn’t ‘do’ geography) whispered ‘Belgium’. ‘Nice one’, said TT, ‘Thanks.’ and he started to write down ‘Belgium’. I pointed out to TT that a) my answer of France was correct, b) Belgium doesn’t end in a vowel and c) it doesn’t resemble a hexagon in any way.

I am all for EQUALITY – I just wish everyone else was! Enjoy Monday and your four units and remember – the Government is always right, even when it’s wrong.

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