I'm glad Obama got re-elected today. His policies stand for integrity and should be the guiding principles that all individuals adopt, for without it, we as a human race, devoid of compassion and humanity, simply become self absorbed and narcicistic.
Today column inches are wasted on Donald Trump, spouting his hate filled verbal rampage over twitter. As far as I see, all he cares about is himself and the dollar and he doesn't care who he tramples on to get what he wants.
Whilst I was thinking of how best to respond, a good friend of mine http://oldmanrich.blogspot.co.uk/ reminded me of a quote from a previous UK MP that really sums up what our priorities are:
Michael Foot on the purpose of Government:
"We are not here in this world to find elegant solutions, pregnant with initiative, or to serve the ways and modes of profitable progress. No, we are here to provide for all those who are weaker and hungrier, more battered and crippled than ourselves. That is our only certain good and great purpose on earth, and if you ask me about those insoluble economic problems that may arise if the top is deprived of their initiative, I would answer 'To hell with them.' The rich can take care of themselves. They always do. "
Sensible words indeed....
#stegoosh on twitter :)
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Wednesday, 7 November 2012
Tuesday, 18 September 2012
Rude Fruit
I bought these splendid looking fruit from a local supermarket: £2 for five beauties.
They are called hairy lychees and they are fantastic
Not only do they taste great, they have such comedic value. With a little imagination they can be turned into a punk wig for a boiled egg
Or my favourite, which needs no comment. It very childish of course but you should expect that from me. More surprising was the fact that it was wifey who took the pictures. I particuarly like the purpley swollen, veiny look of those hairy lychees.
When you are in Asda next time, have a goob in the fruit section and I dare you not to giggle. Comedy gold
Sunday, 9 September 2012
You say Centre Parcs, I say Centre Parks
A couple of weeks ago wifey, Jake and I went to center
parcs for a short break. My mantra for this company is quite simply “Quality =
happy clients = returning custom”. You just
can’t fault their business model: excellent customer service, attention to detail
and professional staff, who genuinely enjoy their work. The desire to ensure we
had a hassle free, relaxing holiday oozed from every pore.
Of course you would expect that. It cost us more to go to
Centre Parcs for 5 days than it did to go to any other holiday park in the UK. But
there is the rub. If you want a spotty disenchanted teenager to nonchalantly
take your food order whist chewing on some gum, go to Haven in Newquay (like we
did). Or if you want to experience a World War II training camp, go to
Porthcawl (like we did).
Center Parcs though, caters for all…… providing you are
prepared to pay. And if that proviso is met, they you surely won’t be disappointed.
All ages are catered for. There’s crèche activities for babies and toddlers and
a multitude of adventure activities for teenagers and 42 year olds who think
they are still 15. The site is set in acres of private woodland with little
chalets nestled in the pine and birch wood and dappled in summer sunlight.
Bicycles have right of way and the site is latticed with a network of
cycle-paths through the woods and around lakes and children wander about the
site in safety. The hub is the Center Parcs village with a serene scattering of
boutiques, restaurants and coffee shops and the impressive all weather swimming
pool with wave pool, rapids, tube slides and outdoor flumes. Just beyond is
the vast lake for water activities and the woods for aerial adventures.
On our last day, we hired cycles. Poor wifey being
pregnant couldn’t cycle but Center Parcs had the solution. A brilliant bike
which had a seat at the front! It was ace! Wifey sat in the seat whilst we took
a leisurely day’s cycling around the entire site and although she may have felt
a bit sheepish to start with, she loved being out in the sunshine cycling
about. The afternoon was spent on the lake in a pedallo on a wonderfully warm
August afternoon followed by a great night of “Robin Hood” pantomime
entertainment which really topped off the holiday for us.
Even the wildlife joined in on the action. Almost too choreographed to be real, on a daily basis, as soon as the French double doors were opened, in came squirrels and rabbits looking for food. Tame enough to take the food out of your hand, it was like a scene from a Walt Disney film –breakfast with the squirrels – I felt like Doctor Doolittle as I conversed with the animals.
Of course you would expect that. It cost us more to go to
Centre Parcs for 5 days than it did to go to any other holiday park in the UK. But
there is the rub. If you want a spotty disenchanted teenager to nonchalantly
take your food order whist chewing on some gum, go to Haven in Newquay (like we
did). Or if you want to experience a World War II training camp, go to
Porthcawl (like we did).
The problem is, these places are tailored to a target
audience….toddlers and young kids at Haven love it. Give them a pool to splash
about in and a kiddie’s playground and they’re in heaven. It doesn’t matter
that you can’t take your eyes off the swirling bilge-filth of twigs and scum
that oscillates near the pool filter, or that the climbing frame is covered in
bird shit.
Large families love Porthcawl. The older kids can go to
the fairground and parents and young kids alike go mad for the free entertainment
laid on almost continually through the day. It doesn’t matter that the local
feral teenagers smash beer bottles against the rocks on the beach, or that the
site looks like it’s twinned with Chernobyl.
Center Parcs though, caters for all…… providing you are
prepared to pay. And if that proviso is met, they you surely won’t be disappointed.
All ages are catered for. There’s crèche activities for babies and toddlers and
a multitude of adventure activities for teenagers and 42 year olds who think
they are still 15. The site is set in acres of private woodland with little
chalets nestled in the pine and birch wood and dappled in summer sunlight.
Bicycles have right of way and the site is latticed with a network of
cycle-paths through the woods and around lakes and children wander about the
site in safety. The hub is the Center Parcs village with a serene scattering of
boutiques, restaurants and coffee shops and the impressive all weather swimming
pool with wave pool, rapids, tube slides and outdoor flumes. Just beyond is
the vast lake for water activities and the woods for aerial adventures.
When we got to our chalet, on a gloriously sunny
afternoon, the smell of damp prevailed. (The result of previous tenants constantly
in a state of dampness from repeated pool visits no doubt). We called reception
to note the issue. Within 10 minutes “the ladies” were at our doorstep and almost
immediately we were offered a new chalet and an upgrade. And what an upgrade! Our
new home was a stunning detached chalet with 3 en-suite double bedrooms, a
sauna, private parking and a bespoke modern kitchen. It was all we could do to
tear ourselves from the luxury to partake any activities.
First on the agenda, archery, (my kind of sport….low
aerobic effort). To say I thumped the
boy into oblivion would be an understatement. Note to Jake: “if you want to
play for fun that’s ok, but if you mock me, prepare to be dazzled”.
Then on to an aerial assault course and zip line, which
Jake flew around whist I tentatively brought up the rear. Jake flew down the
zip line and majestically ran to a controlled stop. I spun around backwards and
used my fat ass to plough a furrow through the landing strip.
A new day - a new activity: windsurfing. A tutor called
Jim (ex army) put us through a crash course. He was great fun to be with and an
excellent tutor who clearly loved his job. The only slight problem was lack of
one essential element: wind. Center Parcs can do a great deal but as yet, they haven’t
learned to control the weather. But no mind, we still had great fun splashing
about and generally messing about.
On our last day, we hired cycles. Poor wifey being
pregnant couldn’t cycle but Center Parcs had the solution. A brilliant bike
which had a seat at the front! It was ace! Wifey sat in the seat whilst we took
a leisurely day’s cycling around the entire site and although she may have felt
a bit sheepish to start with, she loved being out in the sunshine cycling
about. The afternoon was spent on the lake in a pedallo on a wonderfully warm
August afternoon followed by a great night of “Robin Hood” pantomime
entertainment which really topped off the holiday for us.
Starbucks also helped make it a perfect holiday. I
ordered a chai steamer thinking it would be lovely but in fact it was crap.
When the lady came over to our table I happened to mention “I won’t be ordering
one of these again, it’s not really my thing”. And she was off…..swift as you
could say “medium latte no sugar”, there
sat the replacement drink. How’s that for service? Perhaps its Starbucks policy
– but I’d like to think that this was an extra special customer service for a
unique location.
Even the wildlife joined in on the action. Almost too choreographed to be real, on a daily basis, as soon as the French double doors were opened, in came squirrels and rabbits looking for food. Tame enough to take the food out of your hand, it was like a scene from a Walt Disney film –breakfast with the squirrels – I felt like Doctor Doolittle as I conversed with the animals.
We could have easily stayed for another week and still
not been bored. The only tiny negative is that, the more you enjoy yourself,
the more persistently the knot in your belly tightens as you mentally see your
bank balance falling faster than a Harrier Jump jet’s fuel gauge on vertical
take-off. But I’m not going to labour that point. The simple fact is it’s all
about choice. Given the all the plus points and the fantastic staff and
amenities, we most certainly will be returning again to sample the wonderful
atmosphere and relaxed environment. And for only a small additional extra, I
can assure you we will be booking the private apartments next time around. In
fact, if I can wangle it, I may well go again this year to take another crack
at that windsurfing lark….
Center parcs: I salute you.
Rich, Deb: start saving.
Friday, 30 March 2012
Slums of England - part 2 - The Ritz
Continuing our odyssey around the slums of England (see previous post of 19 October for "Slums - part 1" ) a few weeks ago, wifey and checked into a grubby coach-house just outside Green Park for a few days.
The Ritz encompasses all the pomp and grandeur that at is the benchmark to which all of London’s great hotels aspire. Sure there is the elegant Claridges, the contemporary Baglioni or the majestic Savoy. But whilst each excelling in their own particular niche, the Ritz has it all.
Known fondly as ‘The Princess of Piccadilly'. The boutique hotel resonates with a restored Louis XVI style throughout. Sky-reaching ceilings, glittering chandeliers, marble columns, gold-laced cornices and sweeping frescos combine for an assault on your senses.
‘Tea at the Ritz’ is served in the world famous Palm Court, an opulently decorated open room that is the London equivalent of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. A sense of decorum and indulgence sweeps through the majestic hallways and the strictly enforced ‘Jacket and tie’ dress code keeps the Hoi polloi at bay in their immaculately presented bedroom suites. The dress code guides you with gentle persuasion, into a bygone era of elegance, where a man of character would not have been dressed in anything less than a Jacket and tie. No Russian oligarchs, Texan oil barons or dot.com millionaire here.
The Ritz embodies the epitome of British high society living and a slice, albeit for only a moment, of how the other half live. For a once in a lifetime trip, The Ritz is a must. In the heart of London’s most prestigious district, we sat on the balcony and watched the sun set over Green Park between the spires of Battersea and the Marble arch. It was quite literally magical.
The Ritz encompasses all the pomp and grandeur that at is the benchmark to which all of London’s great hotels aspire. Sure there is the elegant Claridges, the contemporary Baglioni or the majestic Savoy. But whilst each excelling in their own particular niche, the Ritz has it all.
Known fondly as ‘The Princess of Piccadilly'. The boutique hotel resonates with a restored Louis XVI style throughout. Sky-reaching ceilings, glittering chandeliers, marble columns, gold-laced cornices and sweeping frescos combine for an assault on your senses.
‘Tea at the Ritz’ is served in the world famous Palm Court, an opulently decorated open room that is the London equivalent of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. A sense of decorum and indulgence sweeps through the majestic hallways and the strictly enforced ‘Jacket and tie’ dress code keeps the Hoi polloi at bay in their immaculately presented bedroom suites. The dress code guides you with gentle persuasion, into a bygone era of elegance, where a man of character would not have been dressed in anything less than a Jacket and tie. No Russian oligarchs, Texan oil barons or dot.com millionaire here.
The Ritz embodies the epitome of British high society living and a slice, albeit for only a moment, of how the other half live. For a once in a lifetime trip, The Ritz is a must. In the heart of London’s most prestigious district, we sat on the balcony and watched the sun set over Green Park between the spires of Battersea and the Marble arch. It was quite literally magical.
Friday, 17 February 2012
Murmurations
Last week, during my daily commute back home, I happened upon this wonderful spectacle: a murmuration of starlings. Over the next few days I managed to capture several movies on my Smartphone.
One has to marvel at how they manage to avoid each other in the melee as dusk fast approaches, with the flock throbbing and pulsing like a living entity. The most spectacular instance was watching a sparrow hawk periodically sally forth from a nearby tree and into the flock, causing it to split savagely as they sought to avoid becoming a late night snack.
I have always been fascinated by grand displays of nature and this time of the year murmurations rank right up there with the best. Rivalling the pink oceans of flamingos that gather in their thousands in the Gulf of Mexico, our lesser known cousins are (in my opinion at least) far more majestic with their sweeping aerial ballets. So in a big fat “Up yours” to the snobby and somewhat pompous flamingos, I give you the streetwise local boys – our very own British starlings.
One has to marvel at how they manage to avoid each other in the melee as dusk fast approaches, with the flock throbbing and pulsing like a living entity. The most spectacular instance was watching a sparrow hawk periodically sally forth from a nearby tree and into the flock, causing it to split savagely as they sought to avoid becoming a late night snack.
I have always been fascinated by grand displays of nature and this time of the year murmurations rank right up there with the best. Rivalling the pink oceans of flamingos that gather in their thousands in the Gulf of Mexico, our lesser known cousins are (in my opinion at least) far more majestic with their sweeping aerial ballets. So in a big fat “Up yours” to the snobby and somewhat pompous flamingos, I give you the streetwise local boys – our very own British starlings.
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