lifestylesupportguru

Life Is What You Make It

Life is what you make it

Stuff what I have learned this week:

A very good day from the Lifestyle Support Guru! Today I am going to share with you some pieces of wisdom that I feel may help you, faithful followers, in your journey along this rocky road laughingly called ‘life’. As far as I can tell, ‘life’ is what you make it and what you make of it – in my case, perfection has almost been achieved. I say ‘almost’ because to say that I am perfect would be rather bold and would imply that I have nothing left to learn. Nothing could be further from the truth, beloved believers – I am constantly learning (for example, Spanish at the moment) and would never be so presumptuous as to think that I know everything (although some might accuse me of being a ‘know-it-all’, but I put that down to jealousy, pure and simple).

But I digress; here is what I have learned this week, which I hope will be of some use in your own miserable and worthless existences (and please do not think that I insult you by referring to your lives in such words; I use them only in a sense relative to the almost blissful state in which I, the LSG, exist). (Again, note the use of the word ‘almost’, showing my true humility.)

Sainsbury’s

1. If you are on a diet (or, as I prefer to say, starving yourself to death), you would be wise to buy a packet of six corned beef slices from Sainsbury’s (other supermarkets are available but I haven’t checked their corned beef slices) rather than a packet of three, since there are fewer calories in each slice in the six-pack – in fact, 10 fewer calories per slice, saving you 60 calories in all! This difference in calories I regard as one of the great unsolved mysteries of the world.

National Trust

2. If you visit a National Trust property with extensive grounds where the entrance is some distance from the car park, try to follow someone of ‘mature years’ to the initial information point where she will ask if it is possible to have a lift on the electric buggy to the entrance. With luck (of which I have an inordinate amount), she will turn around and ask if you would also like a lift – I admit I may have been looking a little fragile (a practised look) and I may (just ‘may’) have exaggerated the limp slightly – so you accept (reluctantly, of course) and drag youngest sibling on with you. At first he is a little unhappy at being driven on what is, essentially, an oversized mobility scooter, but soon starts enjoying himself when we use the royal wave as we zoom past the hordes making their way to the entrance on foot. Indeed, he enjoyed himself so much that it was he who insisted on ordering the buggy for the return journey after we had spent an exhausting hour eating parsnip and apple soup and perusing the items for sale in the shop. No calories were harmed in this activity.

Leeds

3. If you decide to visit Leeds, be aware that it is a VERY big city. It takes EIGHT minutes just to walk from the car park to your hotel – you could do almost the whole of Derby in this time! This time does not include checking Google Maps every two minutes before realising it would be quicker to ask a passer-by for accurate directions, nor stopping to look in a shop window to admire a rather nice large, green, woolly scarf just right for winter and making a mental note to look for said scarf in the Derby branch of the shop (sibling’s comment: ‘Looks expensive.’ Personal thought: ‘And?’).

And there you have the collected wisdom of yet another LSG visit ‘oop north’ – next week I shall be buying a flat cap and a whippet after building a homing pigeon reserve in the back yard.

Testing Times

Sauvignon Blanc

As the Lifestyle Support Guru, I feel that I need to test you from time to time. Fear not, though, fair followers, I shall not be giving you grades or putting you into league tables – no, no, no, this is purely to check how well you feel you know the LSG after having followed my musings and teachings for many moons. I shall ask a few questions and you will need to consider what the answer might be from a choice of three. I shall give the correct answers at the end, so no cheating and scrolling to the end before you have attempted the questions – think of this as the 11-plus for entry into the Grammar School of Life (the LSG’s GSL, so to speak).
The test should be completed in silence but you have as much time as you want to answer all the questions and you are permitted to have a glass of your particular choice of refreshment, such as wine, by your side to help you lubricate your brain cells – it is a known fact that dehydration slows down the thinking process; this why I am such a quick thinker because I never let dehydration slow me down.

1. Whenever I am at home, I always know when it is 12.45 p.m. without looking at a clock or my watch or listening to the radio. How do I know this?
a. Watching television
b. Nearby church bell chimes
c. An alarm clock permanently set at 12.45

2. You are in a pub ( use your imagination if you don’t usually go to a pub) and a woman with a

Wales

husky (the husky is actually irrelevant), upon finding out you are Welsh (if you’re not, again use your imagination and picture yourself as one of the luckiest people in the world), says that she would love to go to a certain Welsh town to see where The Prisoner was filmed. Where did she say she wanted to go?
a. Portmeirion
b. Port Talbot
c. Porthcawl

3. Another woman (same pub – can you see a pattern emerging here?), who has drunk a little more than is perhaps good for her (or for those in close proximity) asks if you pray. When you say that you don’t, she asks a follow-up question with a growing look of horror on her face: You’re not a/an … are you? What does she think you are:
a. A lycanthrope
b. A Buddhist
c. An atheist

4. Two sensible-looking men are in a pub (different pub from previous questions – just to add variety) and having a profound conversation about a forthcoming meeting. Are they discussing:
a. Deconstructing neoliberalism
b. Masculine fragility
c. Brexit and xenophobia

5. You are in a restaurant (makes a change from a pub) and you see a wedding group come out of the Register Office opposite – you can’t miss the group because the bridesmaids are in bright purple – and congregate in the Market Place for photos. What is the bridegroom holding in his right hand:
a. The bride’s left hand
b. A can of energy drink
c. His willy

The answers are: 1: c (I can’t work out how to turn it off); 2: b; 3: c; 4: all three (god, it was boring!); 5: b (don’t anyone try to tell me romance is dead! But wouldn’t you have loved it to be c or even all three?)

How did you do?
• 4 or 5 out of 5 – you may take my place when I’m on holiday
• 2 or 3 out of 5 – more practice and visits to the pub
• 0 or 1 out of 5 – you haven’t really paid attention to anything I’ve said over the last couple of years, have you?

Funerals Are Good For You

gravestone

A very good evening from the Lifestyle Support Guru. This evening I intend to help you understand that, contrary to popular belief, funerals are not something to dread but, rather, events to be enjoyed and cherished.
Yesterday, I attended the funeral of a friend who had been ill for some time and, probably like the rest of you when you attend funerals, was not particularly looking forward to it. However, I have to say that I came away afterwards with a smile on my face. ‘How could this be?’ you cry. ‘Funerals are sad affairs for saying goodbye to people. They require a copious supply of tissues and very little mascara.’ (Remember, boys, I’m also talking to you – never let it be said that the LSG favours one sex over the other in terms of tissues and mascara.)
Now, I have learned that the secret of a good funeral is who you talk to AFTERWARDS. The

Large glass red wine

mourners had been invited to partake of ‘light refreshments’ after the funeral at a local watering hole – so far, so good, I’m sure you’ll agree. I chose to sit with some friends who had placed themselves at the far end of the pub, away from the ‘professional’ mourners – i.e. the ones who sit staring into their drinks glasses with a sombre look on their faces for far longer than is necessary. I shall set the scene:
There was a small supply of the day’s newspapers at this ‘fun’ end of the pub and a headline caught my eye: ‘Jane gets herself into another fine mesh!’ If I tell you that this was NOT an accidental misspelling of ‘mesh’, but that underneath it was a picture of a blonde female in a VERY skimpy mesh one-piece in a particularly lurid shade of fuchsia, you will probably be able to work out which newspaper this was. I knew straight away that this could not be the Jane I know and admire so much because – a) she was blonde and b) Jane would never wear that particular shade of fuchsia.

Discussion moved seamlessly from mesh to TV programmes and I was especially intrigued by one friend who said he really enjoyed police programmes, particularly the ones featuring the ‘Head Loo’. I don’t watch many of this type of programme, but felt sure that I would have heard of one featuring a ‘Chief Toilet’. It wasn’t until he mentioned the Welsh police force that I realised he was referring to ‘Heddlu’ (more or less pronounced ‘hethlee’), which is Welsh for ‘Police’! How I laughed! 🙂
And finally, my greatest source of entertainment was a story told by another friend about a friend of hers who had just come back from holiday and felt that her nipples showed up too much under a white top she wanted to wear out, so she painted them with…Tippex (white correction fluid). All was well until she got home and was getting undressed for bed – her husband looked at her in horror and said, ‘Oh, my god, what’s the matter with you?’ – the Tippex was peeling off her nipples as she took off her bra and it looked as if she’d got some dreadful skin disease!
Impossible to top that story, so I felt it was time to go home – with a lighter heart and a smile on my face. 🙂

So that is today’s lesson – it’s not who you know, but who you sit with at funerals that can give you the best moments.
Sleep well, dear devoted followers!

Having a Good Night Out

A very good afternoon from the Lifestyle Support Guru! Following my last post about dead cats, I felt my devoted followers deserved something a little more light-hearted, so I wish to offer some advice on having a good night out, especially as I know that some of you need to get out more and may have forgotten how to socialise. This is not to say that some of you are unsociable (and having once been called ‘an unsociable b…ch’, I know how hurtful an insult this can be), merely that you think you may be too old to have a night out, especially if it involves staying up later than 10 pm. Remember, my fun-loving followers, you won’t be able to socialise and party when you are dead, so DO IT NOW!

I will set the scene: I was invited to a Presentation Evening by my good friend TT (Tiny Tyke), whom I have mentioned in previous posts. The evening was to start with us being picked up by coach in the middle of Derby at 5.30 pm, so I suggested getting a taxi about 5.15, the pickup point being only about 5 minutes away by car. Now, you need to understand that, while I like being on time, TT can be a teensy bit obsessive about it and said he’d prefer to go a little earlier to be on the safe side, especially with Friday traffic, even though I explained that the Friday afternoon traffic jam usually took place a couple of hours earlier. Consequently, I ordered a taxi for 5 pm and, of course, it turned up ten minutes early (just as the heavens opened), so we were very much ‘on the safe side’, especially since the coach arrived later than expected; we were thus able to pass an enjoyable half hour standing in the pouring rain. What fun!

Having set the scene, I shall now set out the easy-to-follow rules for Having a Good Night Out!

Wine

1. If there is no seating plan, choose the table nearest the (free) bar (even if it is next to a table with a woman who has a laugh like Woody Woodpecker).
2. Brush up on your knowledge of train-building so that you may involve yourself fully in light chit-chat. (I feel I now know more than is absolutely necessary to help me lead a full and fun-filled life).
3. If you have a handbag (or even a man bag), do make sure that you keep it on your lap all night, as my immediate neighbour did. Maybe I was looking particularly shifty and she felt the need to keep her bag away from my grubby mitts? It wouldn’t have gone with my outfit, anyway!
4. To guarantee a really enjoyable night, take your wife with you and ensure that you both keep your phones on the table – this will give you plenty to talk about as you keep each other up to date about any texts that appear, since you seem to have nothing else to discuss.
5. Make sure that your table companion (TT) keeps his excitement at a reasonable level. He does tend to get a little carried away at times, especially when talking about Mods. For those of you who have immediately conjured up an image of the Small Faces or, perhaps, Paul Weller or Mods and Rockers on Brighton beach, I should hastily explain that ‘Mods’ in ‘train-builder speak’ stands for ‘Modifications’ and often refers to train doors, again a subject about which I know more than is good for my health.
6. When the presentations (for long service) start, do try to avoid reading the care label on your new jacket instead to see if it needs dry cleaning. Luckily, TT’s name was third on the list, so I was able to maintain my level of interest that far. (To be fair, they fairly rattled through the whole list – the presenters were clearly more interested in the free bar!)
7. Resist the thought of turning down your companion’s idea of a brandy to ‘finish off the evening’, especially since the barman clearly decides you need a double! If you do NOT have that brandy, you will prevent many people from seeing the hilarious moment when you fall over getting in the taxi home – it is cruel to deprive so many of such fun when it hasn’t even cost you anything. Your companion is of no help at all since he has already taken his seat in the front of the taxi and is now incapable of moving. (It wasn’t really the brandy, you understand, but the arthritis that made my leg collapse under me.)
8. Finally, do make sure that you meet up with your companion the next day so that he may regale you with tales of his nocturnal visit to the loo where he discovered that he was still wearing his shirt and socks, although he had carefully hung up his suit before going to bed.

There you have it – an easy-to-follow guide to a fulfilled and happy life, enjoying a Good Night Out (courtesy of a rather large train-building company!). Thank you for the invitation, TT, my little Yorkshire friend!

Animal Crackers

Malcolm

In light of the sad demise of Malcolm-the-strangely-named-cat-from-Australia, I felt that the Lifestyle Support Guru needed to shine a little beacon of light and fluffiness into your lives – that is my reason for existing, of course, so I wish to tell you a story of another cat from faraway places. I make no apologies to the non-cat-lovers among you, since I hope you will find this tale sadly amusing (or amusingly sad) as well.
Strangely enough, this other cat, like Malcolm, was ‘bequeathed’ to me by my youngest sibling, known as TOFU (Trefor OF ‘Ull), when he returned from a lengthy stay in South Africa and brought Tubs, a semi-long-haired ball of black fluff and a loud voice, back with him. I make no comment on the names that TOFU chooses for his cats – I simply put it down to some defect suffered at birth – but it did make for interesting looks at the vet’s when they would call out ‘Tubs?’ and I stood up.

Tubs lived a long and happy life as the only black South African in my neck of the woods in Derby, until he took to his sick bed. Late one Sunday evening it was obvious that he was distressed, so I wrapped him in a blanket and lay next to him downstairs to keep him company until I could get him to the vet the next day (yes, for any non-animal-lovers, the LSG has human feelings too); however, at about 3 am he got worse and he suddenly died. Take it from me that there is very little one can do with a dead cat at 3 o’clock on a Monday morning, so I took myself off to bed and rang TOFU early the next morning to tell him the sad news. TOFU said he would come down from ‘Ull that evening and help me dispose of the body.
The next morning, I had French A Level oral exams to do, so I took myself off to work, finding out later that my A Level students thought my haggard face denoted a sleepless night worrying about the exams rather than a nearly-sleepless night worrying about a dead cat. Luckily, the orals went well (the students got the good grades they deserved) and I girded up my loins to go home after school and face the walk into a house with a dead cat wrapped in a blanket lying in the back room.
TOFU arrived not long afterwards and looked only mildly surprised to find Tubs lying in the back room, merely asking why I hadn’t put him out in the garden rather than leaving him in the house. ‘But it’s been raining,’ I replied with perfect logic, or so it seemed to me. My brains may have been a little addled by now, through tiredness, exams and, probably, a low-ability Year 9 French class.

Anyway, the rain having stopped, TOFU dug a deep hole in the flowerbed into which we put Tubs with all due ceremony. TOFU explained that the hole needed to be deep so that any subsequent owners of the house wouldn’t come across a pile of bones should they decide to replant the flowerbed. I have to say that the plant that marks the spot goes from strength to strength (which is not something you can say about most of the other plants in my garden, although the dandelions seem to do rather well). And then we went off to the pub to drink Tubs’s health.

This morning, I rang TOFU to tell him of Malcolm’s trip to that great scratching post in the sky. I later got a text asking what had been done with his body and I replied that he had been cremated and I assumed that he didn’t want the ashes back in a tasteful little urn to adorn the mantelpiece. ‘Thank goodness,’ came the reply. ‘I’m still traumatised by the memory of burying Tubs and was worried you’d want to do the same for Malcolm.’ And on that note, I shall pour a glass in honour of Malcolm, saying only that I shall miss him following me to the bathroom in the morning or lying across my neck when I’m having my afternoon siesta.
Enjoy using those long claws in Cat Paradise, Malcolm – you’ve earned it!

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