That There Abroad Place

“Learning to fly”

Our last foreign holiday was in March 2020, just as the world would change dramatically. Until now we’d enjoyed our breaks to Cornwall and Yorkshire, satisfied to not have to go through the hassle that foreign travel seemed to entail. However, as much as we enjoy taking Nev away with us on holiday we were missing some guaranteed sun on our backs, fronts and all bits in between for that matter. So, with a deal of trepidation I booked an 8 night break back to the Barcelo Corralejo Bay Hotel on Fuerteventura, the same hotel we stayed in back in March 2020. As the holiday drew closer there were more and more stories of problems with EasyJet flights being cancelled at short notice, along with industrial action being taken by baggage handlers and other airport strikes and delays. In the last couple of years I’ve become a bit of a worrier, far more than I used to be pre-pandemic.

The Sunday of our flight arrived and I was a bit of a nervous wreck, however the trip to the Long Stay car park, South Terminal, Gatwick was without incident, the bus dropped us at the terminal and the EasyJet staff agreed to open the bag drop early for us. So far, so good. Next up was the challenge of bag check at security. The queue wasn’t bad at all and we breezed through, until my bag was diverted for a hand check. No problem I thought, this always happens as I carry one set of meds in my hand luggage as well as one in my hold luggage, I usually get stopped. This time it wasn’t my bag of meds, it was the large bottle of sun cream that I’d totally forgotten about. The Officer smiled and said I wasn’t the first of the day, and wouldn’t be the last either.

Next stop, somewhere for lunch. It seemed that the number of food outlets had reduced since our last visit. We managed to find a couple of seats in a restaurant, ordered our food and a much needed bottle of wine. Things were going well.

Then the things weren't going as well. 

Our flight was due to take off at 3.10pm, the gate was opened on time, we went through the final passport and boarding pass check, took our seats and waited to board. By 3pm it was obvious we wouldn’t be taking off on time. An announcement was made saying that the incoming flight still had customers who needed assistance on board as no one had turned up to help them off the plane. There was a murmur amongst the waiting customers, a few who had possibly had a couple of drinks too many were a bit more vocal. Eventually, an hour late, we boarded and settled down for a much needed G ‘n T. The pilot had other ideas. A major tropical storm had hit the Canaries, flights in and out were being delayed, diverted and cancelled. We’d been on the tarmac for at least another hour, there was a possibility that we’d be cancelled too. More groans from the passengers and some loud vocal complaints from a wide mouthed drunk tree frog and her son. Just after 5pm, two hours late, we pushed back from the stand, made our way to the runway and took off. Carol is a nervous flyer, we always hold hands at take off and landing, it usually takes a few days for the scars on my hand to disappear. The flight was pretty uneventful, I stick my earphones in, play tunes, read my Kindle and drink a G ‘n T. Because we were so late taking off it meant we’d be landing in the dark, something we’ve not done for a long time. There was a certain amount of turbulence as we approached the island, Carol’s grip got tighter and tighter as we descended through the pitch black night. Eventually the lights of the Island appeared, the wheels made contact and we taxied to the terminal. The usual format at Fuerteventura airport is slick, but for some reason we were kept at the stand for over 20 minutes. People had stood up expecting disembarkation only to be told over the PA to sit back down. Three Guardia Civil, two men and one women boarded the plane, armed with side arms, made their way to the Wide Mouthed Tree Frog and her son. An exchange took place before they were marched down the plane, handcuffed. The son was dressed entirely in black, complete with a hoodie, bear in mind it was 25 degrees when we landed. His mother was complaining loudly that the police were hurting her son. It transpired that they had both been very abusive to the flight crew, demanding drinks and swearing when they were refused. After they’d been escorted off the plane we were allowed to disembark and make our way to passport control. I was expecting a long wait, but we were through in 10 minutes. Mother and Son were complaining loudly as to the way they’d been treated to the Spanish customers offices, who didn’t seem to give a toss 😊 

We’d  pre-booked transport from the airport to the hotel, and at the last minute I’d agreed to share with a party who were on the same flight. What I didn’t know was that they were Special Assistance customers who’d be last off the flight. After waiting 40 minutes the Teletubbies arrived and complained all the way to the resort. Luckily our driver recognised that I was becoming a tad fractious so diverted to our hotel first. We checked in with no problems, made our way to our room at gone 11pm, had a tapas dinner of cheese and onion crisps, BBQ Hula Hoops and a bottle of chilled cava supplied by the hotel. We went to sleep, tomorrow would be another day.

The Tropical Storm was still having an effect on the island the next day, wind and showers. We took it easy, bought the essentials, a bottle of brandy, a bottle of rioja, a box of Pringles and some M & M’s. We’d pushed the boat out a bit and had booked a suite. Massive bedroom, I swear the bed had two postcodes, lovely living room and an outside hot tub which would get a lot of use. Our first day was largely spent cooking ourselves in the hot tub.

We’d hired bikes from the hotel so that we could cycle out to the stone circles on Flag beach, much quieter and private than the main town beaches. It took about 20 minutes to cycle out, including one fairly large uphill gradient, I was really proud that Carol didn’t need to stop once. We fell into our usual routine. A few hours on the beach in the morning, cycle back to the hotel. Walk into town to choose our lunch venue. Back to the hotel where Carol would go to the Spa, I tried one day, but freaked at my inability to breath. Instead of the Spa I’d take the bike and cycle out to the headland and watch the waves crashing against the rocks. I’d then cycle back to the port area of the town, prop my bike up and have a beer at Afrikas.

I first met Afrika probably five or six years ago. The habit of the afternoon cycle and then a beer became one hard to break. During our 2020 visit Afrika and I began to chat, her English is slightly better than my Spanish, but only just, however we communicated. As a Lary the bit of plastic sticking out of my throat makes me fairly recognisable, Afrika ignored that and fed me honey rum and beer. On Tuesday, once the storm had passed I did the cycle ride to the headland. Turned around, got off the bike at her beer shack and said “Hola Afrika, Buenos Dias?” She looked up, took a second look, smiled and came round to give me a big hug, for a slight woman she gives a great squeeze. Between haltering English and Spanish we managed to tell each other how great it was to see each other again. I’ll admit there were tears in my eyes, I was so pleased that she’d survived. During the week I brought Carol down a couple of times to meet Afrika too, on our final day we both got hugs. Afrika has lived a life, she looks older, but then again don’t we all.

The other regular haunt during our previous stays were Oscars Tapas Bar and Algeria Cocktail Bar. The owner of Algeria took a second take when we sat down for the first time this holiday, looked at me and said “Old Fashioned?” my drink of choice. The same happened at Oscar’s, the bit of plastic has it’s benefits.

Someone on the We Love Corralejo FB page commented that there’s more to holidays than eating, I quite agree, but he missed my point entirely. I eat food in small portions due to the effects of throat cancer, but when I do eat I want it to be both tasty and of quality.

Whilst on the subject of throat cancer, I’d posted on the UK Lary FB page that I’d be flying for the first time in a while. After a few conversations it transpired that we’d be in the same resort as a fellow Lary, at the same time, so we agreed to meet up with Phil and his partner Sharon one afternoon. Over the last five years of being a Lary I’ve met a few others. There used to be a group who met at Royal Berkshire Hospital once a month, I went a few times but gave up in the end. Last year up in Leeds I met Tanja for a coffee and chit chat, meeting Phil would be similar. Immediate connection. Phil is only 12 months in, but other than the bit of plastic looks like the picture of health, hardly any visible scaring at all. A couple of hours swapping stories, concerns, small wins followed. Phil and Sharon were on the Island for 6 weeks, we were jealous. 

The days and nights went by far too quickly, soon enough it was time to pack our bags for the flight back home. A few wider observations of our trip.

·       Restaurants and bars are probably 1/3^rd understaffed, and that is just front of house. If your meal is a bit slow then just accept it, have another wine. If you’re the owner of the restaurant don’t shout and scream at your staff, it makes you look like a total A Hole.

·       The sun shines, vitamin D is a wonderful cure for being a stressed out tw*t.

·       Flights are a lottery.

·       Don’t get pissed on your flight, you may be on the next one home.

·       When Lary’s collide 2,500 miles from home it’s likely that beer will be downed.

·       Holding hands is good for the soul.

·       Lying in a hot tub, with a glass of wine, and Mrs C,  looking up at planets is good fun.

·       If someone looks at you because you’re talking via a Lary just smile.

·       Try and remember which car park you’d parked in!

·       A lot of business’s survived, a lot didn’t.

·       We wish the new start up’s the best of luck.

·       Corralejo has something to offer for most people. The “Strip”, the Old Town, don’t judge others on their choices, it’s their holiday, not yours.

The journey home wasn’t quite as challenging as the flight out. We queued for 90 minutes to get through bag drop and security at the airport, which left us little time to get any food or coffee airside We boarded, took off and landed on time. A 40 minute wait for the bags to come through wasn’t what we wanted. The coach trip to the Long Term car park was interesting. We’d landed at the North Terminal, not the South!!!! I had a bit of a meltdown when I sussed out my mistake. It took over an hour to transfer from the North car park to the South one. By the time we reached the car I was shaking. But, and it’s a BIG BUT, we got to the car, got home, had a takeaway, woke up the next morning.

Despite the bollox of the flights, the holiday was worth it. Great food, lovely weather, lots of exercise and most all, the best ever company I could wish for. Carol is a NHS Nurse, throughout the pandemic she worked in Respiratory, dealing not always directly with COVID patients due to my perceived chances of infection. She deserved this "Sun all over holiday" more than anyone I know, it was a FAB few days. 

 

Now the obligatory boring Cancer stuff, after all that’s how this blog started in January 2016. A few weeks ago I had an MRI to ascertain if my throat is contracting again, I’m happy to tell my Consultant that it is as I’m struggling to get through a third of the food that I need to. Back in July I was 92kg, I’m now down to 87kg and falling. The stretch will have an immediate positive effect of meaning I can swallow food properly. I hate wasting food, or having people seeing me struggle to eat. I’m seeing my Consultant on 13^th October, which happens to be my 60^th birthday, I’ll be pleading to have the stretch done prior to Christmas. Other than that things are pretty good. My voice is as strong as it’s been for a long time. I still need “Dad Naps” but that’s probably my age. I had applied to be a contestant on MasterChef but failed at the interview hurdle, so it looks like my days as a media tart are well and truly over.  

 

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued……

#Shoulder2Shoulder

 

 

“You’re entirely bonkers, but I’ll tell you a secret, all the best people are.”

 

Wow, the last blog post I published was in September 2021 just after Carol and I had returned from a short break in Cornwall with the medium sized ginger dog. Blogspot sent me a message earlier this month advising that unless I posted some new content that the blog would be deleted. After over 250,000 words it seemed a shame to lose all that writing.

Last month we went back to our beloved Cornwall and had a great few days of walking on the beaches and eating our bodyweight in seafood, either in local restaurants or from the fishmonger in Wadebridge. We were incredibly lucky with the weather for late March, no rain at all and generally clear blue skies. A combination of an on shore wind and spring tides meant the seas were big, some of the best waves I’ve seen for ages, I couldn’t resist taking a few (hundred) photos whilst I had the chance.

 Neville was in doggy heaven, running up and down the beaches, digging holes in the sand, generally being a dog.

We were surprised just how deserted the beaches were, often it would just be the three of us with possible two or three other couples spread over the vast expanse of sands.   Whilst in Cornwall Mrs C. pointed out the house prices, which if you were frugal, weren’t that bad and perhaps we should just pack our bags and up sticks. Wadebridge has a rugby club, a decent butchers and a first class fishmongers, what more could we ask for? We met up with Nev’s big brother Sidney which we were down. His Assistants live on the edge of Wadebridge so we asked for a “Warts ‘n all” low down on the town. Other than it’s busy in the summer months there were very few warts. Watch this space, I suspect by this time in 2023 we’ll have left Berkshire for good. We’re thinking of a one bed cottage so as to stop the influx of visitors, family and friends.

Life is all a little bit strange for me at the moment. It’s unlikely I’ll get another full time job, I still get very tired and often have a “Dad Nap” in the afternoon, usually being cuddled by Nev whilst some film plays on Netflix. I think it’s a combination of being an old git, the Lary surgery, RT and Chemo creating the perfect storm that makes me so tired.

Monday to Thursday are pretty regimented for the two of us (Carol is at work). We’ll have a morning walk in the park, trying to avoid young and bouncy dogs who Nev won’t get on with. I get really pissed off when other dog walkers say “But he / she is friendly and just wants to play”… in which case don’t let your dog blindside mine and bounce on him, if you do don’t be surprised if Nev gets reactive. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like being bounced by strangers in the park.

After our park walk we’ll normally (every weekday) make our way up to Mad Hatters Coffee shop in the village. I’ve written about Mad Hatters before, but they really do deserve their own post on my blog. During the dark days of 2020 / 21 Lockdowns we’d often walk past the shop and Nev would pull towards the door hoping for ear ruffles, tummy tickles and most importantly dog treats. He’d look up at me when the shutters were pulled down as if to say “What’s going on?”

Mad Hatters is a community hub, if your name begins with an “L” you’ve a good chance of working there, Lisa, Lou, Lizzy, Lianne. Add in Aston, Julie, Chole, Amber and Owner Fiona and you’ve got a dream team. (I may have missed some staff off). In the mornings often I’ll see Sonia who is even more of a regular than I am. She helps out by clearing up tables if the staff are pushed. I reckon Sonia is one of the good ones. She’s happy to speak to anyone and everyone. Sonia knew I’m into my photography and kindly passed on a book of photographs from Tilehurst in the early 1900’s, it was a fascinating read once I’d prised it away from Carol. There’s Tom, who arrives in an electric wheelchair, he’d love for Nev to be his mate, but I think Nev is a bit frightened of the chair. If we arrive after 9’ish we’ll often bump into a mother and daughter combo who have fallen in love with the medium sized ginger one. Nev won the Pride of Reading photographic competition back in December, well actually I won the competition, Nev was the subject. The ladies asked for a copy of Nev’s pic which I was happy to provide.

 They always ask if they can give Nev a treat from the treat jar, he knows the ladies and is happy to sit and look pathetic, knowing he’ll get a treat. There are a couple of chaps who come in most days when we’re there, a case of “Hello, how’s it going?” A couple who bring their dog in, he and Nev didn’t originally get on, but now they tolerate each other. A friend from a local rugby club drops in now and then with her baby son. One of Carol’s ex colleagues is sometimes there. The Dr. who put me on the 14 Day pathway back in December 2015 shows up once a month or so with his new dog, about the only time I see my GP face to face these days – more to follow later in this post.

Earlier this week we had a normal day for Nev and I. We arrived at Mad Hatters after our park walk about 9.15am, I had a small cappuccino, Nev had a couple of biscuits, we made our way home. In the afternoon we went back for a second visit, Nev had a couple of biscuits and I had a small cappuccino. I tend to surf my phone and possibly earwig a bit on other conversations, today was no different. There was a disabled chap who was sitting near to us, I’d seen him in before. The staff made a point of making sure he was ok and had everything he wanted. The couple with the small rescue dog were also in. Nev was happy to sit at my feet ignoring all that was going on and concentrating on the two biscuits that I’d got for him. Opposite were two ladies who were probably in their early 70’s. They’d commented on how handsome Neville was looking (they may have said how scruffy, but Nev is taking editor rites on this post and he insists they said handsome). I’ll be 60 later on this year, after the last few years fun ‘n games with cancer I’m beginning to feel my age and think about my mortality. I was half listening to the two ladies, after a while it became obvious that they were both fairly recent widows. They were discussing the challenges of cooking for one, both agreed that cooking enough for two and eating the remainder the next day was the way to go. Then they described how they both slept on either side of the bed on alternative nights so as not to create a dip in the bed. One asked the other if she’d like another coffee or did she have to get back home. The other lady said “I’ve nothing at home and the people here are so nice, let’s have another coffee” I spend a fair amount of time by myself with Nev whilst Carol is away at work. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be by yourself in your later years, I do however know that a place like Mad Hatters would be a godsend. You could walk in, sit down and feel like part of the family. Tilehurst village now has three coffee shops all within a fairly close proximity of each other. There was some discussion on a local Facebook page when a Costa opened up as to whether Mad Hatters would be able to survive. I’m pleased to say that it would seem that all three shops are doing ok. Perhaps catering for different demographics is the key to success.

I originally started this blog back in January 2016 as an easy way of keeping family and friends updated as what was happening regarding the cancer treatment I was facing. Often it’s easier to write things down than to say them face to face for me. At the moment health wise things seem ok. I’m still having my speech valve changed every 8 to 10 weeks by the brilliant SALT team at RBH. The dark days of COVID where I had to wait over 6 weeks for a leaking valve to be replaced are thankfully over, that really was a miserable time for me. My GP surgery are however a totally different kettle of fish. I’ve been unable to see, face to face, a GP since prior to COVID. It’s tough enough trying to get a telephone consultation without giving the Receptionist your life history. In the past couple of months I’ve been having blood tests for a potential thyroid issue, not uncommon for Lary’s I’ve been told. The GP who I’ve had the misfortune to deal with has been frankly awful. The first time she called she constantly spoke over me and even hung up on me whilst I was trying to speak. Talking over / anticipating / ignoring a Lary are possibly the worst things a person can do. It’s an effort to make a voice, to have a healthcare professional do the exact things that make me so low is unacceptable. The second time she called she did exactly the same thing to me, constantly interrupting me, talking over me or just ignoring what I was saying. I LET RIP AT HER. I ranted for at least a couple of minutes, every time she tried to “But” I suggested, without swearing, that she just listened to me. To be fair to her at the end of my rant she did apologise, whether she meant it, or will act upon my words remains to be seen. I’m aware that the pressure on the NHS is immense, I see it first hand each day when Carol comes home from work, however common courtesy takes no time at all. I’m currently building up a file to make a formal complaint to the Practise Manager, not just for the way I’ve been treated of late, but also for the not signing off my monthly prescriptions in a timely manner, again a task that takes no time at all, and improves the quality of my life.

My last blog in September 2021 mentioned that league rugby was back. Rams were starting their second season in the dizzy heights of National League 1. At the time of writing it looks like we’ll finish up in the top third of the league. The club is really going from strength to strength, on and off the field. The new stand has proven to be a great hit with the supporters at home matches. The new floodlights are “TV Broadcast” standard and mean we can happily host evening matches or still kick off at 3pm in the winter months. Whilst being great for the TV they still make it a challenge for us poor still photographers. There’s an old saying that a photographer is never happy with the light, yep 😊 Too dark, too bright, too many shadows, not enough contrast, you name it, we’ll complain about it.

I’m pleased to say that Max has continued to play rugby now that he’s living down in Portsmouth, he plays for a side called Southsea Nomads who I went to watch a few weeks back. His age group at Rams was one of the largest at the time, as far as I’m aware from those 30+ players Max is one of only three who are still playing. Both of the kids are now teaching. Anna is well set in her life up in Leeds with Tom, she’s even beginning to develop a bit of a Yorkshire accent.

This is Oscar from Is It Contagious?   

He’s the handsome one. Oscar and his family joined me at OBR for a Rams match against Birmingham and Mosely, Rams losing out by a single point in a highly entertaining match. Oscar set up a Bucket List earlier this year after learning that his cancer wasn’t curable. His family were overwhelmed by the number of offers which flooded in for him. His initial list was of 10 things he wished to do, number 9 on the list was to watch a Rams match. I was so pleased to be able to help grant that wish. I was an honour to meet Oscar and his family for the first time after corresponding for perhaps three years.

Finally for this short blog I need to pay tribute to the Current Mrs C. We first met in April 1981 when I was on Hunter Ward of the RBH having had my left kneecap removed following a motorbike accident. Carol was still a student nurse at the time. She came onto the ward, slipped on some fluid that had been spilt on the floor, went arse over tit displaying a rather shapely pair of stocking clad legs, it was lust at first sight. Carol qualified well as a nurse and specialised in sleep and respiratory illness’. For the last 34 years she’s been working in the Respiratory Medicine Dept. at Royal Berkshire Hospital. On 7^th April 2022 she worked her final shift. She’ll be starting a new role at West Berkshire Hospital after a weekend of eating and drinking. This will almost certainly be her final role for the NHS before hanging up her uniform for good, hopefully in the next 12 months, then it’s “Cornwall Baby”. I’ve been through a whole bunch of medical shoite over the past six years or so, without the support, love, care and occasional kick up the backside from Carol it’s unlikely I’d still be here.

That’s about it for now, no idea when or indeed if I’ll blog again.

As always, thanks for reading. Please support your local retailer, be it a coffee shop, a butcher, a fishmonger, greengrocer etc.

#Shoulder2Shoulder

 

                                            Holiday in a pandemic! (Pre-book everything)

                                                                         

                                                       

 

I started writing this blog back in January 2016 as a way of documenting the fun ‘n games I was having with cancer and the treatments to get rid of the little sod. I found writing daily and publishing weekly to be the ideal way to keep my friends, far and wide, up to date with how I was getting on. Over the years the blog spread from just being about cancer to the wider subjects of my life. Food, photography, rugby, family, holidays and a medium sized ginger dog called Neville. Gradually the blog writing dried up, I’d reached a natural conclusion. The cancer had been cut out, I was getting on with my life. The last major blog update was in September 2020 when Carol, Anna, Max, Tom, Laura and I had a great break in Cornwall. I did a brief update when I published Better than the other option   which is still available to purchase on Amazon, it hasn’t sold as well as I hoped, but it’s still raised somewhere in the region of £500 which will be winging it’s way to the Berkshire Cancer Centre charity. Anyway, I digress, the reason for updating the blog is that I was reminded that I hadn’t updated for a while and the blog would be archived unless I published some new content before the end of September.

Like everyone else our world has been turned upside down by COVID, my hopes of finding some sort of part time work was pretty scuppered. I’ve applied for a number of roles, and haven’t even got as far as an interview. I had hoped that being the token disabled bloke would have ticked some boxes. (That’s how I’m classed for employment). At the beginning of the year I threw myself into my writing, spending upwards of five hours a day with the keyboard in front of me and the dog beside me. Once the book was finished life became tough. Lockdown #3 was hard for most people, there are only so many dog walks you can do in a day before Neville complains of sore paws. Pre-COVID Carol and I had got into the habit of having three of four holidays a year, we loved jetting off to the Canaries or Corfu, or even just the long weekends in Cornwall. COVID totally scuppered that for the foreseeable. Whilst foreign travel is opening up the places we want to travel to are still under restrictions which would make the holiday perhaps more of a chore. Carol has worked throughout the pandemic and is frankly exhausted. We were lucky enough to have five days up in Leeds in July, staying with Anna and Tom. We were blessed by some wonderful weather and took great delight in taking Neville to Scarborough to run on the beach and to Knaresborough to meet up with his brother Trio. The rest and change of scenery did us all a world of good. 

Back in March I’d had the foresight to take the plunge and book a week in Cornwall for September. It was a bit of a gamble, but I was pretty confident that the UK at least would have opened up enough for us to get away. I follow a number of pages on Facebook related to the area of Cornwall we usually travel to and was a bit concerned as to some of the mixed messages that were being given out. Stories of huge crowds, packed out pubs and restaurants, “Them and Us” attitudes were making me feel a tad nervous.

As the holiday came closer I decided to pre-book a couple of restaurants and pubs for lunch and dinner to make sure we had somewhere to eat. It took away a bit of the spontinuity of just rocking up at a restaurant and getting a table, but needs must. For the last few years we’ve stayed in a static caravan, but as it was just Carol, Nev and I this year I splashed out on a cottage. Just the one bedroom, but a lovely large longue, well equipped kitchen and fields across the farm yard that Neville could run in each morning. It was ideal for us. We were booked Sunday to Sunday. Due to COVID we weren’t able to get into the property until 4pm. I’d pre-empted this by booking a table for lunch at 2.30 at one of our favourite pubs. The trip down to Cornwall was very quiet, the majority of the traffic we saw was heading back up the M5 away from the West Country. We went straight to Porthcothan beach when we arrived to give Neville a good run out. He’s pretty good at travelling in the car, and usually just settles down and sleeps for the journey. He was getting a bit restless by the time he arrived on the beach and was overjoyed to be back. A fellow member of the Porthcothan FB page asked if Nev was happy, I replied “He’s as happy as a pig in you know what” – This innocent comment earnt me a Seven Day Facebook ban as apparently my comment was classed as bullying Nev! I appealed the decision but it was upheld. I’d been warned a month or so previously about another comment I’d made. A friend in Arrilas, Corfu, posted a picture of a sand mermaid, I commented “Cute Ass” and was banned from FB. I appealed as to the context of my post and the ban was lifted, but I guess I’m now on some sort of FB Watchlist. The upside of the ban was that I finally got round to setting up a FB page for Neville, something I had been promising to do for some considerable time.  Nev's Page He's also managed to get himself nominated in the short (long) list for the BBC Countrywide Dog of the Year award, or something along those lines. If you'd like to vote, here's the link - Nev's Nomination Page

By the time we arrived at the pub for lunch I was feeling a bit jaded, and rather hungry, it had been an early morning and a long drive. I just wanted to sit down with a glass of wine and some decent food. We were shown to a table and given an Ap. to scan to get a menu, the waitress then left. The problem with this idea was that along with the majority of the North Cornish coast 4G is almost non-existent, and the waitress didn’t give us the WiFi password. The restaurant area was really busy, even at pushing 3pm, it took at least 10 minutes to get the attention of another waited to get us a physical menu, I tried to order some drinks, but he walked off before I had the chance. The menu was pretty limited compared to previous years, I guess that’s understandable in the current climate. We eventually managed to order our food, and slightly more importantly, our wine. The quality of the food when it eventually arrived was up to the usual high standard, however the service was sadly lacking. I eventually turned my brain back on and sussed out the lack of staff compared to our previous visits. I’d heard that a lot of business’s in the West Country were suffering from a lack of staff, we were seeing this now at first hand. We visited the same pub twice more during our visit and I’m glad to say that the service improved. It was the same staff on duty and I think being a Lary has it’s advantages as I stand out from the crowd by having a lump of plastic protruding from my throat. A certain medium sized ginger dog also helps I'd imagine.

Our days weren’t really planned as such, we’d wake up, look out of the window and decide what to do. Or rather Nev would wake up at an ungodly hour and decide what he wanted to do. One morning he was stirring at around 6.30 so I bit the bullet, got dressed and drove down to the nearest beach. It was low tide and had the beach to ourselves apart from one other man walking his two dogs on the opposite side of the bay. It was a beautiful morning, with the sun breaking through the mist. 

The only sound was that of the sea and the gulls. We had a good 40 minute run on the beach (Ok, Nev ran, I walked) before driving back to the cottage. Carol was up and had coffee and bacon ready for us. We spent our mornings and afternoons just wandering around the beaches and cliffs in the area, discovering a couple of new walks and beaches as we went. Most days we were doing over 15,000 steps and would be happily knackered by the evening. Nev loves running on the beaches, it’s probably his most favourite past time. He’d collapse on the sofa when we got back to the cottage and spend the evening quietly dozing before taking himself off to bed at 9pm on the dot each night. He’s a creature of habit.

We hadn’t planned to go into Padstow as it had been so busy when we’d been in twelve months prior, but decided to go in at 8am, catch the ferry over to Rock and make our way down to Daymer Bay via beach and cliffs. There were only two other people on the ferry over to Rock when we caught it. Nev sat on Carol’s knee, digging his nails into her bare thighs, he really doesn’t like boat trips, no idea why. We had a cracking walk along the beach, it was just about low tide and as we were early we had the beach largely to ourselves. The cliff walk to Daymer was a bit more of a challenge, the path is pretty narrow so care had to be taken when passing other walkers. A quick coffee in Daymer and we made our way back to Rock. It was now nearly midday and the cliff path had become more like Oxford Street on Christmas Eve. It seemed we were having to stop to give way every few metres, so as soon as we could we made our way back down to the beach and the wide open spaces. The queue for the ferry back over to Padstow was growing when we arrived back in Rock, luckily we just managed to get on the next ferry to depart. Again, Nev took delight in scratching Carol’s thighs 😊 As soon as we got on to the slipway at Padstow is was obvious that the place was packed. Carol wanted to have a look in a couple of the shops on the quay before going back to the car. I was beginning to feel a bit stressed with the crowds. Up until March 2020 I’d never really had much of a problem being in crowded places, all that has now changed I’m afraid. Carol spotted that I was struggling so as soon as she finished browsing we made our way as quickly as possible back to the car park and made our great escape to a quiet pub for a pint and a burger. We didn’t venture back into Padstow needless to say. 

Regular readers of this blog will know about Sidney Thompson. Sidney is largely responsible for Neville coming into our life nearly four years ago. He’s the original Kromis that we got to know via a couple of local Facebook pages. It was Sidney who gave us the heads up that a litter of Kromis were expected, and perhaps we should put our names down, the rest is history, poo bags and chuckit balls. Sidney lives with his Assistants on the outskirts of Wadebridge, not far from where we were staying, As has now become the fashion on our visits to Cornwall we had arranged to meet up with Sidney for a couple of walks. Sid and Nev now get on pretty well, a quick nose rub, sniff of a bottom and they’re happy to walk along whilst the Assistants have a catch up chat. Towards the end of our break we met up at Prideaux Place, an old manor house on the outskirts of Padstow, This was somewhere Carol and I hadn’t been to in years and years. We had a great walk over the top of the headland back down towards Padstow, and is a walk that is now added the list for future visits.

In previous visits we’d probably spent more money in Rick Steins various eateries than anywhere else, this year we decided to spread the love a bit. There was a restaurant in St Merryn that we’d been meaning to try for a while called Rafferty’s. It’s owned and run by a chef who used to work for Ricky. Luckily it is a dog friendly restaurant, so Nev could come with us. It’s only a small place with probably 40 or so covers. When I made the booking I did it for two adults and a medium sized ginger dog. We arrived on to be greeted by a lovely young lady on the reception desk who said “Ah, this must be the medium sized ginger dog”, with a broad smile on her face. The menu was right up my street, along with the usual array of main course, with the emphasis being on fish, there was also a great bunch of starters. So we went for the Tapas option and ordered Padrons, Scallops, Prawns, Halloumi, Fried Oysters…… blimey it was good. Nev was given a couple of dog treats by the attentive staff as he’s not too keen on fish. The other restaurant we were intrigued by was Salt and Samphire, located next door to Rafferty’s. Again, the menu looked like our sort of food, simple ingredients cooked well. I’d booked a table for our final night and what a great evening it was too. The waitresses were both Spanish and there was an Iberian vibe to the place, albeit the head chef was Cornish through and through. I slipped into my extensive Spanish vocabulary when ordering, ie I used both words I know. Carol went for a Monkfish stew, I opted for Beef Short Ribs, Neville sulked as he’d been promised chips! This was probably the best meal we’d had over the break, in a really relaxed atmosphere. Again, we’ll be back in future visits.

We’ve now been back a week, I think Carol has been on Rightmove every night since our return. The world is starting to look a bit crappy again, CO2 shortages, gas price hikes, possible fuel shortages along with the continuing COVID pressures. Budgets will be stretched, beyond breaking point for some people in the coming months. I live in my cosseted world of walking Nev, cooking food and taking photos. How I wish I could turn the clock back before December 2015 when my life changed forever.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued….. (At some point)

#Shoulder2Shoulder

 

I know I've been quiet since September of 2020, but I haven't entirely been wasting my time. In January 2021 I started writing the first draft for #S2S2. I was never happy with that title. Today I've put the final full stop to "Better than the other option", a story of food, family, photography, rugby, travel, a medium sized ginger dog and a large dollop of cancer. 

Huge thanks to Marjie for editing. 

230 pages, 82,000 words, some of them are even in the correct order. 

It's going to take a couple of weeks to format ready for publishing hopefully in mid July. All proceeds from the book will be going to the Berkshire Cancer Centre which has been largely responsible for keeping my alive since December 2015. I will be, without any shame, asking for shares and plugs once the book is published as an Amazon eBook. 

As always, thanks for reading. 

To be continued.

#S2S

 

Who Needs Abroad? 

(Lary the Lamb)

 I started writing this blog in January 2016 when I was first diagnosed with T2 Throat Cancer. At the time I didn’t know what the outcome would be, I certainly didn’t know that we’d have far more holidays in a five year period than we’d had in the previous 30 odd years. So far we’ve been to Corfu twice, Fuerteventura four times, Gran Canaria twice and numerous long weekends in Cornwall. Back in January of this year I made the rash promise to the kids that we’d get down to Cornwall for a long weekend and that they could bring their respective partners, Tom and Laura. Along came COVID 19 and our plans looked to be scuppered.

We were very lucky that when the lockdown restrictions were lifted I was able to book a mobile home we’d used a couple of times before, it’s near to St Merryn so a bit further away from Porthcothan than we’d like, but it’s a lovely van. 7 days booked, can’t remember the last time we had a whole week in Cornwall. I was slightly concerned that 6 adults plus a medium sized dog might be a tight squeeze in the van, but we were fine.

What followed was probably one of the best holiday’s we’ve had for some considerable time. We weren’t in each other’s pockets, we did our own thing. One day Carol and I met up with Bob and Cyd who are the Assistants to Nev’s Dad, Matti. His grandad, great grandad and a couple of his aunties were also there! Kromis Overload J Max and Laura had gone off to Port Issac to meet some friends. Anna and Tom made two trips to Watergate Bay (They’d forgotten they’d got the keys to the van!) Another day Carol and I arranged to meet up with Kevin and Sharon who we’ve known for a couple of years on Facebook. They have two dogs, Rosie and the beautifully named Pasty. Pasty had had a horrible life before being rescued by Kevin and Sharon. She’d been used as a breeding dog and had never seen the daylight. To follow her progress on FB as she’s developed from a timid lady with white marks around her eyes to the beautiful chocolate Lab she is now has been quite emotional, it was lovely to meet her in the flesh, such a gentle soul. Kevin and Sharon are pretty nice too J A lovely walk from Trevose Head, around Booby’s and back again in a lovely light finished the day off.

Through the power of Facebook we’ve made a few friends in the area where we stayed, it’s always great to put a face to the people you’ve been chatting to for a couple of years.

The only arranged date for the week was lunch for six (& a medium sized dog) at St Petrocs Bistro in Padstow. We’ve been to St Petroc’s a few time in previous visits, it’s one of Rick Steins places. He gets a lot of stick for Padstein which I think is unjustified due to the employment he brings to the town, but that is perhaps for another blog. We’d seen signs saying that if you wanted a car park space you needed to be in town by 10.30am at the latest as the overflow carparks weren’t operating. So, we duly rocked up at around 10am, parked in the upper carpark and made our way down to the town with the idea of getting a leisurely coffee. Oh dear, the place was packed. I had a bit of a panic attack. Since March I’ve avoided crowds, but walking through Padstow there was no option. Folk were bumping into me, stopping for no apparent reason, or staring at their phones and ignoring who was coming towards them. The Padstow area has a finite amount of accommodation, reduced this year as a lot of campsites haven’t been taking touring or camping bookings, so why was the town so busy? My theory is that it was probably no busier than you’d expect, but people were trying (and failing) to Social Distance, meaning there was less space for everyone. We made a rapid escape up to the estuary where it was much quieter and enjoyed a lovely deserted stone skimming competition on St George’s Cove before making our way back to the town. I stuck my head down, took a deep breath and made my way to the restaurant, throwing women and children behind be. Sanctuary was found! Arriving at St Petroc’s was the calm after the storm. We were shown into our own little room with our own waiter, Nathan, who looked after us for the afternoon. It was like being in our own Private Dining experience. A chance for us to chat and laugh together. Nev was in his element, he ate his lunch, drank a large amount of water and nibbled the small bit of my sea bass without any complaint. This was probably the most enjoyable meal I’ve ever had. Even Laura, who doesn’t like fish, had a mackerel starter, a few mussels, bit of tuna and some sea bass, I suspect she does actually like fish.  

 

This year instead of just turning up at pubs we made sure we booked ahead. We ate at the Farmers Arms, Tredrea Inn and the Cornish Arms, all of which had great social distancing measures in place, as well as Track and Trace. Different levels of food, but all pretty darn good. The Fajita’s at the Farmers Arms would have fed an army, the ham, eggs and chips at the Tredrea were superb, and the scallops at the Cornish Arms were to die for.  

 

Other than the experience in Padstow (where perhaps I may have overreacted) we found the social distancing to be fine. Walking the cliffs one party would invariably step to the side, a couple of the shops had a “No Mask, No Admittance” policy which I fully endorsed. If you can’t wear a mask for 10 minutes whilst visiting a local store then perhaps you shouldn’t be going into the store? One evening we decided to get fish and chips from Friar Tucks in St Merryn, we rocked up straight from the beach to be confronted by a pretty large queue. I expected to be in the car for at least half an hour whilst Carol queued up. Less than 10 minutes later she was back with the freshly cooked supper. The organisation was apparently perfect and two people who’d “Forgotten” their masks were turned away. I really wish most shops would take this stance.

The last couple of times we’ve been down I’ve been lucky enough to join Kate Whiston for a photography walk. When I left Santander my colleagues chipped in and bought me another walk with Kate, this time we were joined by Anna’s partner Tom, he was using my old Canon EOS20d and my “nifty 50” lens. Anyone who’s seen my photography will know I like to be wide open with a fast shutter speed, landscape is so far out of my comfort zone. Kate is great at setting the agenda to the skill set of her subjects. Tom is a pretty accomplished photographer, but like me, he rarely uses an f Stop much above 4.5. What followed was four hours of photography, chatting and shooting the breeze, the results were simply stunning. Kate has the knack / knowledge to point out the obvious shot, which then produces a stunning image. Many years ago I was told by Gareth Jones that a photographer can’t come home without having dirty knees, Kate concurred with that thought. I did struggle the next day, but I put that down to my age, not sure what Tom’s excuse was J Over the week Tom and I took probably in excess of 1,000 photos between us, neither of us could resist the scenery. 

 

We were very conscious that the people of Cornwall and any holiday resort has really suffered throughout the current pandemic. Pictures from places like Bournemouth, albeit massively distorted by the lens, were shocking. Stories of people littering and other even worse crimes in the dunes made us sick to the stomach. We promised ourselves that the only thing we’d leave on the beaches would be our foot prints.

 The only thing we’d take away would be memories, and a car full of sand from our shoes! I’d like to think that we also left a fair few £’s behind for the local business’s we visited. At no time were we made to feel unwelcome, a balance appears to have been drawn. 

I’ve no idea what will happen to foreign travel in the short to medium term, but having seen the joy that Neville had playing on the beach with the big brother Sidney makes me think that we’ll be staying in the UK for the foreseeable future. I’m not sure I could bare to leave him behind whilst we jetted of to the sunshine. There’s lots of beautiful places to explore in the UK without needing to get on to an aircraft. Lake District, Peak District, Scotland, even Wales has some nice beaches I’ve been told J Maybe we’ll buy a camper van and do a World Tour of the UK.

Anyway, time to find a job.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued………

#Shoulder2Shoulder

 

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

 

Raw Meat 

 

I’ve never been an eater of massive meals. Prior to being diagnosed with cancer in December 2015 I was a regular smoker, which acts as an appetite suppresser as well as a great way to get throat cancer. I enjoyed food, just in medium sized portions. After my initial treatment by Radiotherapy and Chemo I totally lost my sense of taste for about three months. I was also feeling the after effects of the RT on my throat so largely lived off homemade soups (no tomatoes as they reacted with my throat), and the good old Ensure drinks supplied on prescription. I’m not exactly heavily built at the best of times, but dropping down to the low 60’s kg wasn’t healthy. Slowly my taste buds returned, albeit with some foods tasting totally different to how they’d tasted prior to treatment. Marmite became a different spread, but still oh so lovely, and bread tastes a bit like cardboard at times, but generally things got back to some sort of normality. My weight gradually came back and we were probably eating a much healthier diet than pre cancer. No canned sauces, all homemade, lots of fish and pasta, along with a healthy dose of red meat.

Then came June 2017 and my introduction to being a Lary.

 For 10 days in the Churchill Hospital, post op, I was fed through a tube, then once I was considered “Watertight” I was allowed pureed “Food”, which was frankly god awful. I would take myself off to the hospital canteen and buy myself an English breakfast. Carol and I escaped one day and went to Sainsbury’s restaurant and had a simple but delicious lasagne. Anything to get away from hospital food. Once the tunnel was finished and I escaped for good I found that being a Lary and eating meals was going to be a challenge. A Lary means that the Oesophagus is now much narrower than it was before. This means it takes me much longer to eat a meal than it used to, which in turn means I lose my appetite way before I’ve finished most meals. I vividly remember the first time we ate out properly after I got home. Surprisingly enough we went to Nino’s, I wanted to go somewhere where I was “Mr Clark” and not some freak with a hole in his neck. I can’t recall what I ordered, but I can recall that I ate about ½ of what was on the plate.

Over the last three years I’ve largely managed my eating. At home I do almost all the cooking, so I can serve myself a smaller portion and get away with it. If we go out I’m pretty quick to spot what’s likely to be easy to eat. This is one of the reasons I love going to the Canaries as I can order tapas and manage the portion size.

Over the last three or four months I’ve noticed a change in my eating abilities. I’m really struggling with red meat, I love the taste, but it’s taking so long to eat that I then get a bit upset with myself for wasting food (of course Nev gets most of it subject to it not being covered in sauces). Anyone who sees my FB or Insta posts will see that I’ve been doing a lot of BBQ’s, mainly with magnificent meat from The Caversham Butchers. I take a huge amount of pleasure in thinking up dishes to cook, prepping them, cooking them and photographing them (I know, we need rugby back), but I’m struggling to enjoy the eating so much. I’m ok with processed meat in Spag Bols, Lasagne or Chilli’s. I can still eat fish by the kilo, and chicken seems ok. Maybe it’s time to revaluate the food I’m eating and to leave red meats for extra special occasions.

The last time Carol and I ate out was on 14^th March in Oscars Tapas bar in Corralejo.

Raw Meat On Thursday evening Nino’s is opening for the first time since lockdown. We’ve a table booked at 8.15, any slight nerves about eating out are outweighed by the fact we know Nino has taken every single step possible to make dining out safe for his customers.

As always, thanks for reading.

(Probably) to be continued…….

#Shoulder2Shoulder

PS – I now weigh pushing 90kg.