lifestylesupportguru

Category: Siblings

Didn’t we have a lovely time the day we went to Bakewell!

drone

Lifestyle Support Guru here, ready to share more wisdom with you and help you make the most of those rainy days or, as they are more lovingly known in the UK – SUMMER! You will need the following to ensure you have the greatest chance of an enjoyable day out:
1. A sibling who has bought a drone for photographic purposes but then finds he is not allowed to transport it to his next place of residence (ring any bells, DOT – Dai of Turkey?).
2. Another sibling (TOFU – Trefor of ‘Ull) who is prepared to take the drone off the first sibling’s hands.
3. The second sibling will own a large, gas-guzzling 4×4 suitable for negotiating all those potholes and dunes around Hull, but he will also have been on an off-road experience or two in the Peak District, so it has been put to some PROPER use.

4 x 4

4. A weather forecast that says rain won’t be falling until the afternoon.
Having fulfilled all the necessary criteria, you should set off reasonably early to make the most of the fine weather – 10 am is perfectly acceptable, especially if you had a late night the night before.
You can be sure that, once you reach the ‘green lanes’, about half an hour later, the rain will start. ‘Green lanes’ are tracks that already exist and are public highways, although you wouldn’t want to take a little Kia Picanto along them!
You must ignore any ‘Unsuitable for motor vehicles’ signs at the start of these lanes because that is part of the fun! And it is made even more fun by seeing the looks on the faces of the walkers and cyclists who didn’t expect to see a dirty great Land Rover creeping up behind them

Green road

on a lane marked as ‘Unsuitable for motor vehicles’. What larks, as you pass them with a sweet smile and a wave while they look disdainful and/or disgruntled in their wet anoraks or lycra. It is a very pleasant way of making yourself feel superior, although you wonder if you may have to ask for their help a little later as TOFU negotiates some rather rutted tracks and you ask in a quiet voice, ‘Is there a point at which we might tip over?’ TOFU laughs light-heartedly and replies, ‘Oh, we’d have to tilt over a lot more than this.’ Curiously enough, a couple of miles further on, it is your turn to laugh light-heartedly as TOFU’s voice is a little quiet when he says, ‘Hmm, I think this is as far as I’d feel happy tilting.’
After all this tilting, you may feel the need for some refreshment, so you find a little country pub tucked away in the middle of nowhere and order a half of something called ‘Old Snouty’s Rat Juice’ or similar and settle down, the only customers, waiting for all the locals to turn up and start discussing the price of lamb or cattle feed; instead, a hipster couple turns up, looks all around the pub (which is rather small), and the following conversation ensues:

Hipster Man: Do you have a table booked for seven for lunch?
Barmaid: Yes.
HM: Are they here yet? (Remember, he has just looked all around the pub.)
B (and I swear she tried not to sigh, having seen him look around the pub): No.
HM: Do you do Sunday roast?
B: Yes.
HM: Do you do it today? (It’s Saturday)
B: No, but we do a roast of the day. Today is lamb.
Luckily, the rest of the party turned up at that point, because I was beginning to think I’d walked onto the set of some undiscovered Samuel Beckett play. However, things didn’t improve greatly because one of the party read out (loudly) every item on the menu to his wife, who then insisted on repeating the items and asking what came with them. TOFU and I finished our Rat Juice and left to return to the comparative sanity of life in the city.
One final point – I can guarantee the rain will stop the moment you get back to ‘civilisation’.
That is my annual visit to the country done for this year – there is only so much fresh air one can inhale!

Living The High Life!

Rucksack

A very good evening from the Lifestyle Support Guru.
I had considered giving some advice on avoiding little old ladies in pubs who whisper, ‘Can I ask for your advice?’, as happened to me about 30 minutes ago – as it turned out, she wanted to know what she should do about a rucksack she had found at a bus stop on her way home from the pub the other night. The police no longer accept lost property, so she said; I suggested getting in touch with the bus company but she said she didn’t have a ‘slidey phone’ like mine, just an ordinary one at home. ‘Ah,’ I exclaimed, ‘a landline! You can use that instead.’ (Thinks: you’re not getting a free phone call on my phone – I’m on a pension too, you know, AND I know you get a taxi to and from the pub every night AND you manage quite a few vodkas over the evening before you head back to a pub nearer where you live. Not that I’m judging, you understand. Who am I to judge?) I gave her the necessary numbers, which I found on my slidey phone. Still, at least she didn’t want advice on bladder control, which was what I first thought – I shouldn’t have liked to discuss that over my Sauvignon Blanc, I have to be honest.

Anyway, enough of little old ladies (LOLs for short); I know that you, my devoted followers, are

Cheshire

far more interested in knowing what life can be like in the fast lane, as experienced by my male siblings and me in Cheshire at the weekend as we prepared to send DOT off on the next stage of his life (or having fun whilst working, as I call it). These are the rules, as far as I could work out:
1. A Range Rover is absolutely essential for driving up and down the main street and parking outside small boutique shops where the sales are on and a pair of tights is reduced from £40 to £20 – a bargain!
2. The Range Rover must be black or white; no other colour is acceptable (or even available, judging by the car showrooms we passed).
3. The Range Rover must not look as if it has been anywhere near something that might resemble an off-road route for which it was originally designed.
4. The only other acceptable vehicles are: BMW (black), Audi (deep red); Mercedes (silver); anything convertible, providing it’s a Bentley or a cute little Italian job in pale green.
5. All women (except the LSG, who is above such ‘rules’ because her ‘diet’ doesn’t allow for it) must be stick thin and wear tight black dresses (bought in the sale, a bargain at £390) and very high heels.
6. Restaurants are not called ‘restaurants’; they are either an ‘Eatery’, a ‘Grill’ or a ‘Food House’.
7. The ‘house wine’ will be sold out and the next available ‘house’ wine will be at least £6 more expensive than the already-expensive house wine.
8. Red wine and coke is a ‘classic Spanish cocktail’, according to one menu – just trying to remember how many Spaniards I’ve seen quaffing this delightful combination.

It’s just like being abroad, but you don’t have to learn the language! Happy holidays!

DOT calling LSG – Advice Please

I have received this heartfelt plea from DOT and, although I was going to post some sound advice about going oop north to Halifax, I felt this merited a more urgent response. Halifax can wait – we’ll always have Halifax, as Humphrey Bogart said so movingly in ‘Casablanca’ (or was that ‘Carry on, Casablanca’?).

“to: Lifestyle Support Guru

Tanzania

Message to LSG from DOT (Dai of Tanzania)
Dear LSG, I shall soon be making a brief (ha ha – you’ll get the joke later) visit to the UK, where I shall change from DOT (Dai of Tanzania) to DOT (Dai of Turkey). My letter is not about my change of name, but a necessary change in my circumstances.

Istanbul

I need a reputable place, recommended by you, to buy a complete new set of underwear. You may recall that on my last visit I also had a similar need and purchased 10 pairs from M&S. I can hear you wondering how I could have worked my way through 10 pairs of underwear in such a short time.
I didn’t.
The items in question were all several sizes too large and none of the assistants at the aforesaid shop pointed this out to me, or even raised an eyebrow.

boxer shorts

At first I found the extra room useful. I cut down enormously on my excess baggage to Tanzania by simply filling my underwear with towels, and other soft furnishings, such as pillows, a duvet, 2 waterbottles and 20 pairs of socks. They didn’t set off the alarm at the airport, and my body shape ensured that undesirables didn’t wish to seat themselves next to me. However, things haven’t gone as smoothly since.
I have had to learn to walk with a mincing step whilst in Tanzania: left hand firmly inside the back belt of my trousers holding on to the waistband of the undergarments to ensure they don’t end up around my knees. Occasional forgetfulness has me having to hunt, using my complete arm down inside the trousers, whilst smiling and nodding at alarmed passers-by. Shopping has become problematic as I often need both hands to carry the bags, and the faltering garments ensure the mincing steps become more exaggerated at these times, only able to move my lower limbs from the knees downwards, attracting unwanted attention.
I haven’t replaced them whilst here as I’m never sure that someone hasn’t worn said items previously.
So, all I want is a reputable place where the assistants will raise their eyebrows and ask suitable questions like, “Are these for your own use, sir?”, or “How many people are you expecting to get into each pair?”
Dear LSG. Please help. I can’t spend another 2 years like the last. And as you are a Support Guru, this seemed an appropriate plea.”

Oh, DOT, DOT, DOT … (Did you see what I did there? Ha ha!) What can I say? If only I had read this before I went to Netherthong in the Yorkshire Dales …
Firstly, I have to congratulate you on your highly inventive use of the extra luggage space created by your purchase of over-large undergarments. With careful marketing, you could branch out (so to speak) into the travel industry, offering Ryanair customers a foolproof means of packing all their holiday clothing without having to pay those pesky ‘hold luggage’ charges. (‘Hold luggage’ is not, I hasten to add, an order – that could lead to charges of a very different kind and at least one night’s stay in a local prison cell as you try to explain just what you were attempting to do with your arm buried down your trousers. I don’t think ‘Looking for my underpants’ will translate too well into Turkish.)

CHEESE

You could, of course, pop along to Derby’s Eagle Market, which still advertises itself as ‘Britain’s largest indoor market’ (even though it isn’t and, to my knowledge, never has been) to purchase more undergarments in a more appropriate size. Unfortunately, there is one immediate problem I can foresee – there’s only about one stall left in the market and that sells cheese. I do not recommend purchasing anything from this stall because a) you don’t eat cheese and b) using said cheese as a ‘filler’ for the previously-purchased garments could lead to even stranger looks from people and, probably, unwanted attention from dogs and other creatures with a strong sense of smell.
I can only see one solution and that is to ask a sibling (you have a choice of several) to accompany you next time you sally forth on a shopping trip and get him/her to read the labels on packs of undergarments BEFORE you purchase them. This could serve two purposes – i) hours of entertainment and amusement for passers-by as they watch you peering closely at labels, asking, ‘Does that say Large or Extra Large? I don’t want them round my knees again.’ and ii) a warm glow emanating from the sibling who was chosen because (s)he feels loved and wanted, although that warm glow could, equally, be emanating from sheer embarrassment.
Personally, I would recommend going to a town where you and/or glowing sibling aren’t known. Alfreton (see previous post) has some shops – and very few pubs, so you can wander round purchasing underpants in a variety of sizes without fear of being recognised or of going into a pub, drinking too much and ending up doing a Superman impression as you try on your new pants over your trousers.
I hope this helps. Do keep me informed.

Did they really say that??

Africa Street sellers

Good evening from the Lifestyle Support Guru, once again here to guide you across life’s babbling brooks, raging rivers and terrifying torrents. Surely, you must think, there cannot be much more that the LSG can teach us? She has already helped us with so much, such as what to say to a lady with her dress tucked in her knickers, how to deal with marauding monkeys, and enjoying a night out in Barnsley (or all three together, if this takes your fancy).
Oh, my faithful followers, there is still so much to learn, including when you may use exclamation marks, as laid down by our all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful but beloved government (I may have made that last bit up).
Today, however, I wish to share with you some of the deeper thoughts I have gathered from listening to those around me and, thus, help you to avoid making a complete fool of yourself by repeating such silly things. I shall also include some photographic evidence so that you may make up your own minds.

The first ‘jewels’ are all courtesy of my acquaintance, TT (the Tiny Tyke), who has featured in previous posts because of his wide-ranging level of knowledge (believing that the English for Beaujolais is Bordeaux, for example). He was studying some of my glorious photos of African scenes (in other words, I was showing him my holiday photos, yawn, yawn) and, upon seeing a

Market traders England

typical African street scene of crowds of people selling fruit and vegetables and anything else that might bring in a few Tanzanian shillings, he remarked, ‘I love little market towns’, as if he were looking at a picture of Pickering in North Yorkshire!
Upon seeing another street scene with concrete crossings across rainwater ditches, his comment was, ‘That reminds me of the canals you see when you come into Birmingham on the train.’

And finally, while looking at a photo of a main road crowded with vehicles of all shapes and sizes, he commented that he couldn’t understand ‘why they only ever seem to have one main road running through African countries’. I patiently explained that this might have something to do with the arid wilderness and wild animals found in many such countries, so there’s no real point in having another road, since you are likely either to end up dying of dehydration or serving as a packed lunch for a lion (or both?).

But TT is not the only one who has given me pause for thought with his observations. I overheard a conversation in the pub the other night when two men were discussing Burns Night (yes, I know it’s April, but Derby occasionally takes some time to catch up with other, more forward-looking towns and cities). One of the gentlemen said that he didn’t know the words to ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and he’d never tried haggis because he’d never been to Scotland. In the next breath, he said that his favourite food is curry. With my most innocent face on, I asked him if he’d ever been to India. ‘No, of course not,’ he replied, with no hint of irony.
I shall finish with an example of something which still puzzles me: why would my youngest sibling, over a Sainsbury’s ‘Junior Breakfast’, ask me if I had ever thought of working on Sainsbury’s checkout when I retired? Dearest devotees, much as I admire Sainsbury’s checkout staff, I am afraid that I would have to consider Waitrose at the very least!

Do play along with ‘Spot the difference’ in the photos…

LSG To The Rescue

Tropical Storm

Before I continue with tales of my exciting travels through Tanzania, I must relate my role in saving four young Americans from what would have been certain death in the harsh African environment.
My intrepid companions, DOT and TOFU, and I were returning from a long day out in the bush, having had our fill of wandering wildebeest (one can weary of wildebeest after an hour or two – they don’t do a lot and they don’t really have any ‘cute’ factor) when our driver screeched to a halt (a slight exaggeration, perhaps) upon seeing another safari vehicle at the side of the road with five people standing next to it. Bosco, our driver, spoke to the other driver in Swahili (in which I am now almost fluent, since I can ask for two OR three beers AND say ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’), then asked us if we would mind giving the four passengers a lift back to their campsite because the suspension on their vehicle had broken. ‘Of course,’ I cried out straight away (being the natural leader of the group) and welcomed the young people into our own vehicle after directing DOT and TOFU in the rearrangement of our luggage, which involved no discomfort on my part but necessitated everyone else having to squash up, and off we set.
All the way to the camp, I was imagining what might have happened to them if we hadn’t stopped – death by starvation (although one of the group might have taken a little longer to starve than the rest) or an attack by lions in the night (wishing for a change of diet from wildebeest), but when we got to their campsite, all I can say is that either form of death would have been preferable to what they would face that evening! DAAAHHLINGS!! Positively primitive – small tents, a communal toilet block, such a lack of even the basics – no en suite, no television or mini-bar, doing your own cooking AND washing up! Unthinkable! We left them there and continued on to our own accommodation, which was all one could ask for, including more staff than guests and a view over the Ngorongoro Crater which ‘breath-taking’ doesn’t even begin to describe.

Ngorongoro Crater at dawn

And now I will continue with my insightful TRAVEL TIPS, some of which may surprise you. I had not thought that Tanzania – and the Great Rift Valley in particular – would make me feel homesick for Wales, but there were times when I felt that we could be driving through the Brecon Beacons, such was the scenery – green, lush and mountainous. It was so easy to imagine oneself back in God’s Own Country if one discounted the coffee plantations, the oxen pulling carts, the goats and the Maasai warriors (although the natives of Brecon have been known to get a little wild after a couple of sherries on New Year’s Eve and who could forget Ivor Emmanuel holding off the whole of the Zulu nation with his rendition of ‘Men of Harlech’?).

What other TRAVEL TIPS may be of help? It is always useful to carry a flash drive (memory stick for the less technical) with your own cheerful choice of music on it, such as ‘Mad World’, ‘Fix You’ and ‘Someone Like You’ – this avoids having to listen to Jim Reeves’ ’20 Most Depressing Songs Ever’ at your hotel, including ‘God Be With You Till We Meet Again’ and ‘Life Will Be Better On the Other Side’, which make Leonard Cohen appear like a joyful, life-affirming person of irrepressible jollity!

That will do for now – I do not wish to overburden you with too much information because, unlike the LSG, most humans do NOT have an infinite capacity for retaining information. Usiku mwema, rafiki!

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