As part of our initiative to spend a long weekend away somewhere in the UK each month, SWMBO and I have just spent some time in North Devon. I have to come clean and admit it was tied in with me having the opportunity to play the Saunton golf club, a course considered to be one of the top links in the Country.
The only reason it is not on the Open Championship rota would be the inaccessibility of the course and the lack of hotel accommodation. The course is just on the edge of Exmoor, in the prime surfing area which encompasses Saunton Sands, Croyde and Woolacombe. i won't go into the merits of each bay in terms of long board or short, but the locals are pretty passionate about which is best.
So, having found a location for the golf it was necessary to find somewhere to stay, and I decided Ilfracombe would hit the spot. 'Oh dear', said my mate Ray, an expert on the coast-line of Devon and Cornwall having yomped most of the footpath in his time. 'It's like a time warp, a screen set from the TV series life on Mars'.
Well no problem, I thought, I can cope with that, and it will give us a bit of us time.
We first went to Clovelly, a heritage site and almost a living museum village. we walked down to the harbour on the narrow cobbled stone walkways, and looked back at the distance we had travelled, and the drop we had negotiated. Fortified with a pasty and a cup of tea we set off back up again. It was at this point that I recalled getting back up by Land Rover the last time I was there. I must have been about 10, and my Dad could not face the climb and so we all returned to the top by car. Sadly that service does not operate off season, so a walk back it was.
We took in the history of the place, the fact that until recently all deliveries were done using donkey powered sledges, and that it was the favoured place of Charles Kingsley who spent his childhood in Clovelly before moving on. he always maintained a cottage and returned most Summers to write. He was part of the Ruskin, Dickens, Tennyson crowd and his best known novels are Hereward the Wake and Westward Ho!.
Westward Ho is not far from Clovelly and also has a well thought of links course, considered one of the oldest in England.
Now back to Ilfracombe, where we arrived to find a very pleasant room waiting for us, with one of these open plan bathrooms as part of the accommodation. I find this sort of design quite strange. Anyway, the proprietors were very pleasant and had not long purchased the place, moving down from Birmingham in the process.
We quickly changed and went out to the restaurant SWMBO had booked as a birthday treat. And indeed treat it was. We had the place to ourselves, our own private chef and waiter, and failed to realise it was a sign of things to come.
On Sunday, we got up and found to our horror that Ilfracombe was closed.......nowhere to have a decent Sunday lunch, nowhere to eat in the evening, the tunnels beaches which are one of Ilfracombe's main tourist features were also closed, so we were stuffed. We ended up in the local 7/11 getting a feast of stuff to take back to the room, popped on a film and slobbed out there!
As a tribute the the open plan accommodation, we did take ourselves to a village in Exmoor called Simonsbath and in due course I will add a photoshop picture to this article as a record of events.
We have now done Christchurch in Dorset, Edinburgh and Clovelly in our weekend schedule, April we look forward to going to Cambridge, we are hopeful of a few more things to do there!!
Friday, 30 March 2012
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
Lights are on, but nobody is home
I am told that giving a eulogy with a friend or loved one lying in the casket next to you, is a very hard thing to do. It is particularly tough when the person involved has been cut down in the prime of their life.
I experienced the closest thing to it at the weekend when I visited my mate Dave in Queen Mary's hospital in Roehampton. Dave, also known as 'Cellnet' Dave or Dodgy, has been diagnosed with early onset dementia and last year was sectioned. he remains in a secure unit at the hospital while they try to find a suitable care home for him. The implications are that he will remain institutionalised for the rest of his life, eight to ten years in a living casket if you will.
Dave was a bit of a lad as we spent our 30 and 40 somethings together alot of the time. A founder member of the Tuesday club, he was regularly looking for a deal, or chasing a party. We played rugby together, and embraced the social side of the game, all around the World. His times in Cannes at the telecommunications gala's and his reputation, unfair though it was, as a short arms, deep pockets merchant were legendary and it was this latter trait which indicated to me that things were not all good in his world.
During my infrequent visits to London it became evident that people were bad mouthing Dave in a way that was not good. He was becoming nomadic and hermit like, and his behaviour in company was getting him into trouble. It is sad that only when his wife sought help to get him into a medical facility that could give him some help that the true nature of his change became evident.
When SWMBO and I visited him it was like walking into a scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Initially he would not see us, but we stuck it out and some time later the nurse returned with him. He spent twenty minutes or so in the room with us, but it was obvious that he was really somewhere else. his recall of irrelevant facts was accurate, and his awareness of time and local events associated with it meant he left when the evening meal trolley was due. His wife has since indicated that he was aware who we were, which was a comfort.
I suspect he has days when the lights are off and nobody is home, or they are on and somebody is home. This weekend it was a combination of both. I hope I catch him in a better place next time.
I experienced the closest thing to it at the weekend when I visited my mate Dave in Queen Mary's hospital in Roehampton. Dave, also known as 'Cellnet' Dave or Dodgy, has been diagnosed with early onset dementia and last year was sectioned. he remains in a secure unit at the hospital while they try to find a suitable care home for him. The implications are that he will remain institutionalised for the rest of his life, eight to ten years in a living casket if you will.
Dave was a bit of a lad as we spent our 30 and 40 somethings together alot of the time. A founder member of the Tuesday club, he was regularly looking for a deal, or chasing a party. We played rugby together, and embraced the social side of the game, all around the World. His times in Cannes at the telecommunications gala's and his reputation, unfair though it was, as a short arms, deep pockets merchant were legendary and it was this latter trait which indicated to me that things were not all good in his world.
During my infrequent visits to London it became evident that people were bad mouthing Dave in a way that was not good. He was becoming nomadic and hermit like, and his behaviour in company was getting him into trouble. It is sad that only when his wife sought help to get him into a medical facility that could give him some help that the true nature of his change became evident.
When SWMBO and I visited him it was like walking into a scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Initially he would not see us, but we stuck it out and some time later the nurse returned with him. He spent twenty minutes or so in the room with us, but it was obvious that he was really somewhere else. his recall of irrelevant facts was accurate, and his awareness of time and local events associated with it meant he left when the evening meal trolley was due. His wife has since indicated that he was aware who we were, which was a comfort.
I suspect he has days when the lights are off and nobody is home, or they are on and somebody is home. This weekend it was a combination of both. I hope I catch him in a better place next time.
Monday, 26 March 2012
Sofia so good....
Chiswicks best kept secret, our youngest grandaughter, Sofia, is now at the crawling stage, so we took a trip over to the flat on Friday to see her in motion.
She seems happy with herself and ambles around in a very contented way smiling at anybody whose eye she can catch. She is about eight months old now and I suspect she will soon be climbing the furniture to strengthen her legs prior to taking those first unstable steps.
At that stage, all the artifacts at floor level and probably up to about three feet of the ground will need to be moved out of reach as the wrecking ball into which babies transform, will be more than able to search and destroy.
It will be interesting what her first words will be. With a Bulgarian mother and grandmother in residence it may be something Eastern European which will probably sound like mamma or pappa any which way and no doubt she will be multi-lingual like her parents are.
It is strange that number one son has found his home in Chiswick at a time when I have vacated, but at least we know our way round when we visit.
Sofia was baptised in the local Russian Orthodox church whose vibrant powder blue spire can be viewed from the M4. The inside of the church did not have the same finish although the standard icons did cover the back wall of the church.
The dunking took place downstairs in a giant plunge bath and I am not surprised Sofia came out screaming her head off, the water was icy cold.
We hope she will soon be able to visit Scouseland and meet the human dynamo who is Ava. Give them both eighteen years (max) and they will be taking the pubs and clubs of England by storm....lock up your son's time!
She seems happy with herself and ambles around in a very contented way smiling at anybody whose eye she can catch. She is about eight months old now and I suspect she will soon be climbing the furniture to strengthen her legs prior to taking those first unstable steps.
At that stage, all the artifacts at floor level and probably up to about three feet of the ground will need to be moved out of reach as the wrecking ball into which babies transform, will be more than able to search and destroy.
It will be interesting what her first words will be. With a Bulgarian mother and grandmother in residence it may be something Eastern European which will probably sound like mamma or pappa any which way and no doubt she will be multi-lingual like her parents are.
It is strange that number one son has found his home in Chiswick at a time when I have vacated, but at least we know our way round when we visit.
Sofia was baptised in the local Russian Orthodox church whose vibrant powder blue spire can be viewed from the M4. The inside of the church did not have the same finish although the standard icons did cover the back wall of the church.
The dunking took place downstairs in a giant plunge bath and I am not surprised Sofia came out screaming her head off, the water was icy cold.
We hope she will soon be able to visit Scouseland and meet the human dynamo who is Ava. Give them both eighteen years (max) and they will be taking the pubs and clubs of England by storm....lock up your son's time!
Monday, 19 March 2012
CPR - know how to do it.
I am indebted to the Reverend Brian D'Arcy for the inspiration, and plagiarism, of today's blog. Brian presents 'food for thought' on a regular basis on BBC Radio 2, and I feel today's message needs a wider audience. ( As if my blog gets more hits that Radio 2 gets listeners, but you know what I mean!)
While my mate's and I were cheering England to victory this weekend at Twickenham, tragic events were unfolding at White Hart Lane, less than ten miles away. There, a young footballer collapsed, and in a moment the immortal words of Liverpool manager Bill Shankley were turned on their face.
Shankley famously stated: Some people believe football is a matter of life and death, I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that
Saturdays incident clearly indicated that life and death take precedence over all, yes, even football . A family sit at the bedside of Fabrice Muamba praying for the full recovery of their son, father, fiancee and friend. Sadly our recent family experience does not bode well for him. Brain damage sets in very quickly, with CPR needed within the first few minutes of a cardiac arrest. If, as reported, his heart did not start pumping again until he reached hospital, then his family may find they are faced with the worst decision anybody can ever face, as brain activity examinations will prove to be more vital than those on his heart.
These decisions were not necessary in the case of Liam Kelly and his family. Liam played in the Scottish League Cup final at the same time as the drama unfolded in London. After helping his side Kilmarnock to one of their greatest ever victories, he was informed his father, Jack, had suffered a heart attack at the end of the match, and died shortly afterwards.
Tragedy engulfs the World at every turn in these turbulent times. In these two incidents, however, the poignancy of Vinny Jones and his 'Staying Alive' advert becomes all the more relevant.
While my mate's and I were cheering England to victory this weekend at Twickenham, tragic events were unfolding at White Hart Lane, less than ten miles away. There, a young footballer collapsed, and in a moment the immortal words of Liverpool manager Bill Shankley were turned on their face.
Shankley famously stated: Some people believe football is a matter of life and death, I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that
Saturdays incident clearly indicated that life and death take precedence over all, yes, even football . A family sit at the bedside of Fabrice Muamba praying for the full recovery of their son, father, fiancee and friend. Sadly our recent family experience does not bode well for him. Brain damage sets in very quickly, with CPR needed within the first few minutes of a cardiac arrest. If, as reported, his heart did not start pumping again until he reached hospital, then his family may find they are faced with the worst decision anybody can ever face, as brain activity examinations will prove to be more vital than those on his heart.
These decisions were not necessary in the case of Liam Kelly and his family. Liam played in the Scottish League Cup final at the same time as the drama unfolded in London. After helping his side Kilmarnock to one of their greatest ever victories, he was informed his father, Jack, had suffered a heart attack at the end of the match, and died shortly afterwards.
Tragedy engulfs the World at every turn in these turbulent times. In these two incidents, however, the poignancy of Vinny Jones and his 'Staying Alive' advert becomes all the more relevant.
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