lifestylesupportguru

Tag: Rugby

A Wet Weekend in Worcester

Hello, Beloved Believers! Here I am again, the Lifestyle Support Guru, fresh from my annual rugby trip with a few followers, this time to Worcester, which is a very nice place to visit, with lots of pubs and friendly people who were quite happy to let us eat and drink well after the time they were going to close – well done, Worcesterians, or whatever people from Worcester may be called.

However, not everything was perfect, starting with sibling’s choice of transportation for his change of clothing for the weekend. We have a range of cases and holdalls, from small to large, to cover all holiday eventualities, but his personal preference? A large, bright blue recycling bag with ‘GLASS’ printed in large letters on the side. I didn’t ask what he had done with the actual recycling …

We collected the Tiny Tyke and set off, arriving in good time and just ahead of the other party members whom I shall call Nigel and Ian for the sake of anonymity. This early arrival turned out to be very fortuitous because, somehow, Nigel – to be referred to as NN (Nigel the Nincompoop) from now on – had made a real mess of his booking. I shall try to explain this.

NN only had one job and that was to book two rooms – one for him, one for Ian; he managed to book three: two through the hotel chain’s central reservation and one through an agency – the LSG is still trying to follow the logic of that. On top of that, he booked them for the wrong date! One job, Nigel, that’s all you had! That was not the end of it by any means, though. He changed the dates – or so he thought – and offered one of the rooms to the LSG, who had not yet booked her allocation for the Derby Deputation. The offer was accepted and the LSG went on to book two more rooms for sibling and TT (Tiny Tyke). All’s well that ends well – or does it? It turned out that only two of the three rooms had been changed to the correct date and that the other one had been classed as a ‘no show’ for the previous weekend, so we were one room short. When I say ‘we’, I mean NN was short of a room… To cut a long story short, the LSG, TT and recycling sibling went off to the pub while NN and Ian the Intelligent tried to sort out the rooms. The story ended with NN having to check into another hotel, but that’s for another day …

glass of red wine

What else did the LSG learn about Worcester? Well, I knew it was posh because it has a Waitrose, but this Waitrose has … a wine bar!! That’s a difficult decision – shopping or wine bar? Wine bar or shopping? It’s a little bit like baked beans and sherry trifle – both nice, but you wouldn’t put them together (well, you might if you’re the TT because he likes weird mixtures of food, but there again, he IS from Yorkshire). Even the LSG wouldn’t combine shopping and wine, much as she enjoys both – that way lies disaster and a much-depleted bank account!

There was much laughter and jollity over the weekend ( although most of it shouldn’t be repeated in polite company) and much quaffing of alcoholic drinks and I would recommend Worcester as a place to visit, but don’t – I repeat, DON’T – let the Nincompoop book your rooms. Let your mantra be: Leave it to the LSG!

Confessions Of A Rugby Supporter

A very good evening yet again from the Lifestyle Support Guru! After being silent for so long, I now find myself producing another missive within 24 hours of the last one – a bit like buses, I suppose: none come along for ages and then several turn up at once!
As many of you will know, we are currently speeding towards the end of the 6 Nations rugby season and there is everything to play for!
When watching the rugby, I like to watch it either in the company of a group of friends or at home on my own where I can rant and rave or cheer as loudly as I want, frightening the cat along the way. Today, I decided to watch the game on the big screen in my local, mainly because I knew there would be nobody else in to watch it – a) it’s a football pub and b) Derby was playing at home, so most would be at the game anyway.
I settled myself in glorious solitude at a table in front of the big screen and watched the first half undisturbed – apart from someone coming up halfway through the Welsh anthem to ask me if I would sign their passport photos!

And then, from out of nowhere, during the interval, a man came and set his drink down on ‘my’ table and asked if I minded if he sat next to me. I replied that that was fine as long as he didn’t speak during the game and he said he knew nothing about rugby anyway, to which I replied, ‘Well, don’t expect me to explain it to you.’ (this is called ‘Welsh hospitality’). You may have gathered that I’m not one for chitchat during an important game.
He settled himself down with his pint and a packet of Mini Cheddars. Within two minutes, however, he had gone up to the bar and bought another pint (the other one was still full) and two more packets of Mini Cheddars, this time in Branston Pickle flavour – I HATE Branston Pickle! Halfway through the second half, he went up to the bar again and bought himself another pint (he’d still got a pint and a half left from previous rounds) and 3 – THREE! – more packets of Branston Pickle Mini Cheddars! This man has a worse diet then me – at least I went home and had a hot meal (courtesy of the microwave, of course).
The game ended and ‘mystery man’ took it as a sign that he could now chat away to his heart’s content. Sadly, for him, I had finished my drink and was ready to go home. I left him heading towards some other unsuspecting patron while I wended my way to the microwave.
Everyone else gets the ‘nutters on the bus’ – why do I get them in the pub?? Good night!

The Lost Weekend

An Old Classic

For those of you old enough to remember, this post’s title refers to a film starring Ray Milland and Jane Wyman about a man who goes on a bender and I immediately spotted the similarity between it and a rugby weekend in Llandudno. ‘Why Llandudno?’ I hear you ask, as you cut to the heart of the matter. A simple answer suffices – one member of the group had been conceived in Llandudno. No further details are necessary.

The LSG’s almost limitless patience was severely tested right at the start, I can tell you, when one of the Midlands contingent thought it would be good fun to get the meeting time wrong, arriving almost 45 minutes late. I shall refer to this sorry individual as TP (or TeePee), which stands for Tall Paul because a) he’s tall and b) his name is Paul. The other Midlands passenger was TT (the Tiny Tyke), who has been mentioned in previous posts.

Four hours later, instead of the 2½ promised by Google Maps, we arrived at our destination – this lengthy journey was partly due to the three satnavs in the car being unable to agree on the route to our hotel. The three satnavs were Google maps, TT and TeePee. I had printed out the directions to the hotel and asked TT to read these out to me because Google maps had gone into a sulk as we passed Rhyl and had stopped speaking to me (having been to Rhyl once, I can understand this). TWENTY MILES from Llandudno, TT started reading out the directions – EVERY SINGLE ONE, including street names, exits on roundabouts, left and right turns… Now, the LSG may have a superior brain and memory, but even she was going to have difficulty remembering all these instructions, so she politely asked TT to read them out once we got closer (I think the exact words may have been: ‘Shut up and don’t be silly. I’m not going to remember all those. Be like the satnav and read them one at a time when we’re actually in Llandudno.’ It had been a long day, Faithful Followers…).

We met up with the rest of the merry band, who had travelled from all corners of the globe – well, London and Hull, to be precise – and, after a reviving drink or two, we decided to go for a meal. The meal was pleasant enough and the bill was acceptable, but TT showed his Yorkshire colours when he rounded the bill up so that it would divide easily between six of us as well as allow for a tip … of £1.27.

The following day was taken up with watching the rugby in a pub chosen by the member of the group who had also chosen Llandudno as our destination for this year’s rugby trip. The pub was rather lacking in atmosphere – and rugby fans. In fact, it seemed to be lacking in Welsh people as well. (One of TT’s comments on the weekend overall was that he had been disappointed because Llandudno ‘isn’t very Welsh’. I think he may have been expecting to see hordes of women dressed in traditional Welsh costume, complete with tall black hats.) The nearest we came to another fan was someone standing behind our seats shouting that well known rugby chant: ‘Meat pie, sausage roll; come on, England, give us a goal… or a try.’ Youngest sibling even managed a few moments of shuteye in between games, but this is not unusual, since he falls asleep at the drop of a hat (Welsh or otherwise).

That evening’s meal was Indian… it was supposed to have been Chinese, according to TripAdvisor.

The journey home on Sunday was uneventful, mainly because the LSG knew where she was going and didn’t need to rely on TT, TeePee or sulky Google. The weekend was completed by an evening meal out with TT, TeePee and his new girlfriend (who hadn’t come to non-Welsh Llandudno). The LSG had opted for a casual look for the evening – i.e. jeans and trainers – because thinking of anything else to wear seemed too tiring after two days in Llandudno. Meanwhile, ‘new girlfriend’ had obviously had time to think about what to wear – a whole weekend, in fact! – and was dressed in a rather glamorous fitted red lace number and heels. Of course, as the LSG, I managed to rise above lowly feelings such as jealousy, thinking only that I would have somewhat resembled an overblown rose with a bad attack of ‘downy mildew’ should I have attempted to wear anything similar, whereas ‘new girlfriend’ looked like a willowy tulip. Shan’t be making her my new best friend.

And there you have it, Beloved Believers – a lost weekend in Llandudno. Highly recommended, but only once…

The Perfect Host

Hosting guests

A very good evening from the Lifestyle Support Guru!
Some time ago, I posted some advice on being the PERFECT GUEST. This evening I wish to expand on this, having hosted a weekend of VISITORS

. This time, if you follow this advice, you will ensure that everyone has a WONDERFUL TIME, whether as HOST or GUEST. Although there may seem to be a lot of instructions, they are really quite easy to follow and require little more than a group bus ticket and some stamina.

1. GUESTS should coordinate their arrival perfectly to ensure they all turn up at the same time – this means that the HOST has no time to worry about those last-minute arrangements, such as fresh flowers, which always add that little welcoming touch, I think. That said, I’m not sure that three hulking men away for a weekend of watching rugby and football would necessarily have noticed a lovely flower arrangement so, on second thoughts, don’t bother with the flowers. So there you are: you already have less to worry about!
2. Check how much wine you have in the fridge.

wine

3. Take your GUESTS and other friends on a tour of the local area to show them the lovely sights of Derbyshire – the Little Chester Ale House, the Black Bull’s Head, the Thorn Tree, the Five Lamps, the Coach and Horses (bar AND lounge).
4. Check how much wine you have in the fridge
5. One GUEST may tell you that he ALWAYS wakes up early, so he’ll go out for a walk in the morning to avoid disturbing everyone else. The HOST will come downstairs at about 9 the next morning to find the insomniac GUEST still

Laughing Cat

fast asleep on the sofa bed. The HOST should clean up the little mess on the carpet at the bottom of the bed which has been kindly left by one of the cats, but which has not woken the GUEST, even though the noise of a cat being sick is usually enough to wake the dead.
6. Check how much wine you have in the fridge.
7. Supply tea, coffee, toast as required, then wonder what the neighbours will think of one GUEST wandering around the garden in a t-shirt and underpants, which he decides will suffice instead of going for an early morning walk.
8. Check how much wine you have in the fridge.
9. The HOST should have a shower and stay upstairs drying hair and trying to repair the ravages of the previous day’s excesses so that GUESTS have time to wash up cups and plates (before the HOST points to the dishwasher).
10. Check how much wine you have in the fridge.
11. The HOST should take the GUESTS to a restaurant to taste the local specialities – a selection of tapas – before the party heads to another local hostelry (the Golden Eagle) for an afternoon’s rugby and more local specialities, this time garlic Scotch eggs. Eventually, at 9 pm, the insomniac GUEST will decide that he’s had enough so will be escorted home by the HOST who should ensure that he makes it safely to bed before returning to meet up again with the other GUESTS. The Ale House and Coach once more benefit from the GUESTS (minus one) and HOST wishing to make sure that they have no money (or brain cells) left at the end of the day.
12. Check how much wine you have in the fridge.

Large glass red wine

13. Wave goodbye to GUESTS the following morning (well, two out of three guests – one is having so much fun, he decides to stay another night).
14. Check how much wine you have in the fridge.
15. Monday morning: wave goodbye to the final GUEST after showing him the little dead bird that another of the cats felt would be a spectacular leaving present… and BREATHE!
16. Check how much wine you have in the house.

Satisfaction guaranteed with very little effort.

How to Become Invisible

Invisible

A very good Sunday evening to you all from the Lifestyle Support Guru! Having returned from a weekend in Hereford, I can now share with you what I have learned from venturing into the wilds of the Welsh Marches area. You may well ask, ‘Why Hereford?’ And I will answer, ‘Why not?’ There was a reason for choosing Hereford which, simply put, was because the other place my friends and I wanted to go to was full!
So, what have I learned from my sojourn away? Well, I have learned how to BECOME INVISIBLE!!! This can be a very useful trick and one that came about quite accidentally, but it’s an easy one to learn, especially if you are female. Here are the basic rules:
1. Make sure you are the only female in your group.
2. Find a nice little pub in which to settle down to watch a day of rugby (having researched the pub the previous evening on a test run – notice that I didn’t say ‘a DRY run’!).

rugby

3. Sit down in a cosy corner facing the television. Now, here I need you to picture the scene, if you will… the four male members of the party are all seated on a corner bench seat around a couple of tables, while the female member is on a chair opposite them.
Now, having sorted the basics, this is how you BECOME INVISIBLE – a large group of young women in various forms of Welsh national dress will enter the pub and sit down behind the female member of your group, thus facing the male members of your crowd. From that point on, the female member will find that she has BECOME INVISIBLE and that she could be speaking in Swahili for all the notice that is taken of anything she may have to say, however important it may be (world debt, starving children, the price

garter

of a pint, that sort of thing…). She is not helped by the ‘leader’ (i.e., the bride-to-be in this hen party) occasionally raising her skirt to show off her garter (in the Welsh colours, of course!). A glazed look will have come over the faces of the males sitting opposite you and you could swear that tongues hung out at one point!
So how do you get rid of this INVISIBILITY, you ask? Well, all you need is for a group of Morris dancers to enter the drinking establishment. Yes, Morris dancers, dear followers. You will feel a bout of hysteria coming on as one of the Morris men, in all seriousness, asks one of the hen party, ‘Why are you dressed up like that?’ This comes from a man wearing a white frilly top, trousers tucked into his socks, bells hanging from his knees and his face blacked up!

Morris Dancers

The hysteria builds up further when, after you get talking to the girls – a very nice crowd from Cardiff, as it turns out – the bride-to-be tells you that she’s getting married in Marrakech in a couple of weeks and the only married man in your group says, in all seriousness, ‘Oh, we went there last year. It’s really nice.’ Somehow, I don’t think an almost-60-year-old man and his wife and daughter will have quite the same priorities as a twenty-something blonde getting married in Morocco! I shall simply say that his list of things to see and do didn’t really bring a gleam of joy to her eye!

And on that note, I shall say ‘Hakuna Matata’ – which is Swahili!
Sleep well, dear followers.