I am not sure what overcame me last weekend, but on Thursday evening I found myself in Newport, Gwent, as part of a golf party. I guess the need for a few rounds overcame the lifelong aversion to Wales and all things Welsh, family members and long term friends excluded.
So there we were, twelve of us, staying at the Celtic Manor resort, preparing to contest the Dai Pedro golf championship on the greens of the Montgomerie and Roman Road courses, before sliding back into England to finish the contest at the Players Club near Bristol.
Things started off fairly sensibly the first evening, with a few gallons of Brains SA and a nosh in a Beefeater restaurant, followed by a trip into the centre of Newport to visit a Lloyds Bar. This one used to be the Queens Hotel and was probably a magnificent place in its day. On a Thursday night in Newport, it was virtually empty , and a fairly soulless place. Still there was golf in the morning so the hangover damage was limited.
Friday dawned bright and clear so we wandered onto the first tee wanting to see just what the courses had to offer. It soon became apparent that the drainage systems were just not up to the job of clearing the amount of water which had fallen recently, and that was strange, as Celtic Manor commands a position high on the hills overlooking the town. Sadly that had an effect on the day, and the scoring was high as a result. Still there was always the night in Cardiff to look forward to!!!
Cardiff has re-invented itself recently with pedestrian areas, restaurants and new plush bars, and this did seem to attract a fine selection of ladies out onto the street. There were very few fights, with limited ,but spectacular, examples of projectile vomiting remain the stand out memories, it put the Welsh lads to shame.
After more golf on Saturday, we donned our fancy dress attire to hit the town in. This year it was Pub Signs' and followed on from our previous attempts at famous Englishmen, and countries of the World. My effort as The Kings Arms was not very well received so I was forced to be a duplicate of the Blue Blazer, a famous drinking establishment in Edinburgh. Given Newport is the most common place name in the British Isles, I was disappointed nobody went as the Red lion, the most popular pub name.
The evening was highlighted by the twelve of us taking over a gourmet curry house and turning it into a typical Saturday night East End tandoori. The clientele and owners all took it in good spirits and a boozy time was had by all.
Now back to Celtic Manor. It was the venue of the 2010 Ryder Cup, which people may remember ran over into the Monday due to the terrible weather on Sunday. UK and Ireland triumphed there as they did recently at Medina in Illinois. It was played on the 2010 course which we did not play this year as it was considerably more expensive and lay at the bottom of the valley.
Celtic Manor has aspirations to be the Turnberry of Wales but from our experience, it has little hope of being able to emulate that venue. The courses are well laid out although very similar to those found in Portugal and Spain. The weather is a major inhibitor and the surrounding area does not offer too much of a distraction. Still, you need to try these places to find out whether they are worth a repeat visit. It is really a glorified municipal pay and play, so I won't be putting this one on my returns list.
Oh, yes, I came third and The Count and I won the pairs competition, the third year running he has won, each time with a different partner, and it went down to the last putt on the last green on the last day.
Tuesday, 23 October 2012
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
Windjammer Landing
I was reminded that today is the 25th anniversary of the 1987 hurricane that hit South East England during that particular evening.
I lived in Chiswick in West London at the time, and was fortunate enough to work in the office over the road. I was often to be seen rushing over the road at the slightest hint of rain, to get my washing in from the line. I was also fortunate enough to go home for lunch when the fancy took me and on some occasions I would be accompanied. Those were the days.
On the night of the hurricane, I have no recollection of the famous weather forecast presented by Michael Fish when he assured everybody there would only be strong winds and it would be nothing to worry about. I sleep through most things, although I do recall waking in the night to the rattle of the window in the bedroom.
For some reason I was sleeping in the spare room that night. Now whether that was because I was decorating I really cannot recall, but when the alarm went off, and the radio came on I do remember the radio announcer saying there was wide spread devastation over South East England. I got washed and dressed and then looked out of the window to see somebody else's shed roof in the garden, and a couple of fences down further up the road, but it was not until i got outside that I saw there had, indeed, been some stormy weather.
One tree down the road was leaning against the front of a house, and there were branches and boughs strewn all over the place. Car bonnets had been caved in, and tiles lay all over the road. I was lucky to avoid any property damage and after a brief inspection I walked over the road to work.
This is where the fun started. 'How did you get here?' asked the security guard. 'I don't know how I am going to get home , or when' he said, as it was apparent already that his relief was marooned at home.
Two or three other people who lived local made it in over the next hour or so, and we spent the rest of the day listening to tales of woe from people who had been badly affected or stranded away from home.
Two stories stick in my head. The first involved a work colleague who left addington near Croydon at 6am to drive to our office in Warwick. He drove around a fallen tree at the end of his road but thought nothing of it. He arrived in Warwick at 08:30 to be greeted by incredulity from his work colleagues that he had arrived there at all. He was totally unaware of what had happened. It took him nine hours to drive home that evening.
The second concerned the cross channel ferry chaos. A friend of mine was on a Calais to Dover ship which was diverted to Folkstone as they could not navigate the harbour entrance at Dover. They arrived outside Folkstone to see another ship already tied to the quay and unloading. There was a queue of ambulances waiting to ferry the injured to hospital as people were flying across the decks with the size of the swell, breaking limbs and knocking themselves out.
Eventually the ship finished unloading, and she was then cut from her moorings and allowed to drift away from the quay, that being the only way they could quickly free up the space for my friends ship to dock. Apparently they could not unload any cars from either ferry as they too had been tossed around in the hold, and blocked the exit ramps. Ouch!
It's a bit breezy here on the Wirral today, but nothing has compared since. 25 years eh!, a lot has happened in that time.
I lived in Chiswick in West London at the time, and was fortunate enough to work in the office over the road. I was often to be seen rushing over the road at the slightest hint of rain, to get my washing in from the line. I was also fortunate enough to go home for lunch when the fancy took me and on some occasions I would be accompanied. Those were the days.
On the night of the hurricane, I have no recollection of the famous weather forecast presented by Michael Fish when he assured everybody there would only be strong winds and it would be nothing to worry about. I sleep through most things, although I do recall waking in the night to the rattle of the window in the bedroom.
For some reason I was sleeping in the spare room that night. Now whether that was because I was decorating I really cannot recall, but when the alarm went off, and the radio came on I do remember the radio announcer saying there was wide spread devastation over South East England. I got washed and dressed and then looked out of the window to see somebody else's shed roof in the garden, and a couple of fences down further up the road, but it was not until i got outside that I saw there had, indeed, been some stormy weather.
One tree down the road was leaning against the front of a house, and there were branches and boughs strewn all over the place. Car bonnets had been caved in, and tiles lay all over the road. I was lucky to avoid any property damage and after a brief inspection I walked over the road to work.
This is where the fun started. 'How did you get here?' asked the security guard. 'I don't know how I am going to get home , or when' he said, as it was apparent already that his relief was marooned at home.
Two or three other people who lived local made it in over the next hour or so, and we spent the rest of the day listening to tales of woe from people who had been badly affected or stranded away from home.
Two stories stick in my head. The first involved a work colleague who left addington near Croydon at 6am to drive to our office in Warwick. He drove around a fallen tree at the end of his road but thought nothing of it. He arrived in Warwick at 08:30 to be greeted by incredulity from his work colleagues that he had arrived there at all. He was totally unaware of what had happened. It took him nine hours to drive home that evening.
The second concerned the cross channel ferry chaos. A friend of mine was on a Calais to Dover ship which was diverted to Folkstone as they could not navigate the harbour entrance at Dover. They arrived outside Folkstone to see another ship already tied to the quay and unloading. There was a queue of ambulances waiting to ferry the injured to hospital as people were flying across the decks with the size of the swell, breaking limbs and knocking themselves out.
Eventually the ship finished unloading, and she was then cut from her moorings and allowed to drift away from the quay, that being the only way they could quickly free up the space for my friends ship to dock. Apparently they could not unload any cars from either ferry as they too had been tossed around in the hold, and blocked the exit ramps. Ouch!
It's a bit breezy here on the Wirral today, but nothing has compared since. 25 years eh!, a lot has happened in that time.
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