lifestylesupportguru

Tag: travel

Tips for a Top Christmas

A very merry Christmas to all my Faithful Followers (FFs), Delightful Devotees (DDs) and Beloved Believers (BBs) – this sounds rather like a bra advert! – who, as I write, will be in the middle of preparing for the festive jollities and may well be feeling somewhat stressed. I am here to offer some information on how I am preparing for the days ahead in the hope that you may be able to use some of this information in future years, since I fear that it may be too late for this year.
1. Take the cats to their holiday home and feel a little sad that they seem to settle in very quickly and may have already forgotten you before you have even left the building. However, the plus side is that you can now pack your suitcase without having to check every ten minutes that one of them hasn’t sneaked inside.
2. As you are returning home, you decide to call in at Sainsbury’s for something to eat, since you have very little in the fridge, apart from a couple of old slices of low calorie corned beef (see an earlier post for information on low calorie corned beef), some Brie and a rather smelly Stilton (thinks – ‘but I do have a bottle of port that would go nicely with the Stilton…’) and you are completely out of Pot Noodles. The car park is so busy that they have attendants guiding you to parking spaces and you are pointed towards a tiny space between an estate car and a large Freelander which has, of course, parked over the white line between spaces (this is a privilege reserved for those who own unnecessarily large cars that they can’t park properly). Even with the LSG’s tiny car and superlative parking ability, you realise that this is going to be more than just a tight squeeze and that you will not be able to get out of the car even if you manage to park it, so you drive off and find your own parking space, well away from any spatially-challenged 4×4 owners.
3. Decide that you will have the Sainsbury’s Christmas Lunch Special, since, in your mind, you can still hear your mother saying, ‘You’ve got to have turkey and sprouts at least once at Christmas.’ (inside, you are still a child crying, ‘Why?’, but you do as your mother tells you). Whilst waiting for the festive feast, you peruse a copy of the Daily Mail and realise that you are living in a different world from the Mail’s, where anger, rage and disgust seem to be the default emotions. I always feel as if I have been slapped across the backs of my hands with a wooden ruler after reading this fine example of unbiased, open-minded, British journalism.
Eat three Brussels sprouts (two more than usual) in penance.
4. Get home and realise that you STILL haven’t written many Christmas cards and that any you may write now will not arrive in time for Christmas (especially since you haven’t got any stamps either), so it looks as if you may have to send them late and include one of those dreaded Round Robin letters explaining why your card is so late – would they believe it if you said that you had been helping out at a homeless shelter or delivering food parcels to lonely old people? No, I didn’t think so, either.
5. There is only one thing to do to rescue you from sinking into a deep depression (other than going to the pub, of course – that will come later…) – check in online for your forthcoming holiday to a warm and sunny destination where you can sit and sip a chilled glass of white Rioja as you are soothed by the sound of the sea gently lapping in the background and contemplate everyone else having to listen to ‘Mistletoe and Wine’ for the 100th time (although you know you may tire of ‘Feliz Navidad’ after a little while).
6. Send email to siblings to apologise for not sending Christmas cards, but explain that you have been helping out at a homeless shelter and delivering food parcels to lonely old people.

Have a lovely Christmas, everyone!

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!

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…

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’!

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