All posts in category: Travel/Nature

Never ask for directions and other essential tourist information...

August 1, 2020
Fasion Health & Beauty Food & Drink Sport Travel/Nature
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Why...

Do I know more about where I visit than where I live? If you want to amuse yourself in a city you are visiting ask directions to a made up address. If it's slightly rude… even better. Piddle Lane, Butt Hole Road, Divorce Court or (my favourite) Camel Toe Drive. (These in fact all exist). Nine times out of ten the person you ask will point you with utter certainty in the direction of your fictitious address. Locals never, ever, can be seen to know less than a foreigner. It is a maxim that you are always better informed of the cities you visit than the ones you live in. Most foreigners know far more than I do about London....and I lived there off and on for fifty years. The last time I viewed the Crown Jewels at the Tower of London, TV was black and white and The Beatles wore suits. My most recent visit to the British Museum was with my toddler son......who is now a pilot! However I visit the Louvre every time I am in Paris and the Met every time I'm in New York. I would rather kiss a politician than go to the Opera in London but in Vienna it's a must. If you do want true culture always search out a local museum. There are only so many Botticelli's a man can see in a day but how about the Phallogical (gentleman's sausage) Museum in Reykjavik, Iceland? You can compare notes with the Condom Museum in Bangkok or Sex Museum in Amsterdam? Got the kids? No problem. There are Barbie museums in Paris, Rome and Montreal or a Cup Noodle Museum in Osaka.

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DIY classes and Bear Grylls never taught me how to colour my wife’s roots

June 5, 2020
Entertainment/Media/Arts Food & Drink Friends Travel/Nature
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Why...

Could I never join Tom Hanks on Castaway? Lockdown has demonstrated that I would never survive a week as Robinson Crusoe. The ‘manly’ ability to be able to fend for myself in the wild is limited to knowing how a tin opener works. Don’t laugh, most kids have no idea what it is. To try and light a fire I might as well rub two Boy Scouts together rather than wood. And the idea of building anything, let alone a hut, that did not come in a flat pack, is farcical. Before Covid-19, many men had this belief that in the survival stakes they had things covered. The reality is without electricity, streaming TV and the Internet mankind is as viable as a condom dispenser in the Vatican. All these clowns who ran around pretending to be GI Joe at the weekend but were Account Managers during the week, would quickly become canapés for a hungry bear in the woods. Just as everyone now is a forensic expert after watching a few seasons of CSI, two episodes of survivor and a season of Gilligan’s Island makes us castaway experts.

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Three weeks in lockdown and I just got plastered

Why...

Are my best efforts to behave thwarted? After weeks of lockdown and too many visits to the fridge, my wife mentioned if I were to go for a swim in the sea I would be in danger of being harpooned by a Japanese whaling ship. “Your trouser top button is social distancing from the the button hole. Get in the gym.” If you are in lockdown with one person, the most important thing is to avoid friction or it will end like Lizzie Borden giving each other whacks with an axe. I duly pulled on some shorts (with an elastic waistband that was stretched tighter than a banjo string) jumped on my cross trainer, lost my balance and promptly fell off. Instead of burning calories I bust my wrist. If there is a God, she has a pretty rough sense of humour. Luckily it’s my left hand. “Don’t think that means you can’t use the treadmill,” my wife warned after driving me back from hospital. So boring. “I’m not a bloody hamster on a wheel,” I replied. Instead I created snaxercise. Open the fridge, bend down, take out ice cream, stand up, take a scoop, bend down, put back ice cream, close the door, stand up. Repeat thirty times.

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The joys of becoming an accidental medical tourist

January 18, 2020
Fasion Health & Beauty Food & Drink Life Technology Travel/Nature
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Why...

Do I react like a spoiled brat when forced to visit a doctor overseas? I recently returned from a trip to Asia that had me visit four different hospitals within three weeks. With more trepidation than an actress knocking on Harvey Weinstein’s hotel door, I expected to be met in Emergency by a wild eyed shaman, a witch doctor ready to behead a chicken, or a surgeon who looked like Boris Karloff. Instead I was treated to some of the best medical service and equipment I have ever seen! One hospital in Chiang Mai was like walking onto the set of 2001 space Odyssey. In fact I half expected HAL’s voice to greet me. As for the actual medication, no ‘eye of newt, toe of frog’ but drugs even I recognised. Though of course there is always a risk of a Chinese knock off, but I guessed odds were remote at the palaces of medicine I visited. What did catch me off guard was dosage. Nothing had any effect until I rang my own Dr. Frankenstein in London. “That is what you’d give a 12 year old,” which is probably the build of most males in the country. I am a beached whale by comparison. Triple the dose and all was dandy! Now I was lucky. I have insurance and was in Thailand where private hospitals put many in certain countries in Europe to shame. Even the food was so good I put on weight. I now understand why Thailand is not only the paedophiles and perverts destination of choice but now over 2m a year for those in search of medical treatment. You never know... the nurse might be a Ladyboy. I now have got my head around this relatively new phenomenon of medical tourism. With equipment this good and prices between 80% and 50% less than in the West, it starts to make sense. In fact you can save so much money that once treatment is finished you can recuperate in a five star hotel and still be in the money. Furthermore your insurance company is going to send you a thank you letter!

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I wish you all a Happy New Year... now here’s something to add a little sparkle!

January 8, 2020
Entertainment/Media/Arts Kids/Family/Relations Travel/Nature Work
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Why...

I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this blog over the past four years. My close friends were relieved as it stopped me sending them endless emails on my observations of the day and gave me a platform to pontificate to a wider audience. My secret passion (well the one I’m prepared to discuss in public) is writing. So in addition to the blog, I rolled up my sleeves, shut the door and wrote a book. My debut thriller FALL OUT launches in May and pre-sales are now available on Amazon both in the UK and USA. It is the first in a franchise of thrillers set in the film industry. My target is 5,000 pre-orders which kicks it into bestseller territory. FALL OUT An LA screenwriter is killed shortly after completing his latest script, FALL OUT - a thriller destined to be a blockbuster but written with a secret double purpose. Echoing events from the past the screenplay is sent to a very specific group of people and will change their lives forever. All are connected to a movie that had abruptly stopped shooting in the jungles of the Philippines years before. FALL OUT exposes the truth about a conspiracy and murder that led to a half-a-billion-dollar fortune for a select few. Follow the story of Producer Marcus Riley, who sets out on an increasingly dangerous quest to get FALL OUT made. From a powerful agent’s office in Hollywood, hidden treasures in Belgravia and a remote chalet in the Swiss Alps to murder at the Cannes Film Festival, Marcus teams up with designer Melinda (Mako) de Turris as they and the other recipients of the screenplay are pursued by an assassin from the past. With clues cleverly concealed in the screenplay, Marcus and Mako unravel a lethal puzzle that for some will bring death, others the truth and ends in a cave with a shocking secret..... If you have enjoyed the blog and fancy something longer than just a paragraph or two now is your chance! Click here for Amazon UK book location Click here for Amazon US book location

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I will get arrested if I ask a stranger to stuff my pudding in her secret little container

December 20, 2019
Fasion Health & Beauty Food & Drink Friends Kids/Family/Relations Travel/Nature
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Why...

By a remarkable set of coincidences have I managed to get to 63 and never spent Christmas Day in the snow? On the only two times up to age 24 it snowed in the UK on Christmas Day I was out of the country. Every other year was spent there. No snow. My wonderful parents never got the ski-bug, so I actually never skied till I was 42! Once I started making a few bucks, my love of diving had me spend nearly every Christmas somewhere hot. So that was nearly 25 Christmases doused in Ambre Solaire with the odd one spent again with family and friends in snowless England. Now married to my American wife, we live in Malta where Christmas is usually around 20c/75f. Occasionally we spend it with her family in Old Town Alexandria, just outside Washington D.C. I missed a snowbound Washington Christmas, coz the planes from the UK were grounded due to bad weather or a strike or both and again when it snowed in the UK a few years ago we were in Washington enjoying a heat wave. So, I have given up.

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My Eyebrows are Silky Soft and my Hair Smells of Listerine

December 5, 2019
Fasion Health & Beauty Food & Drink Life Travel/Nature
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Why...

Hotel room designers must have one thing in common (apart from calling their children Nathanial or Poppy); vision so perfect they could see a flea get a hard on. Even with all the lights on, hotel rooms at night are as dim as a village idiot. It has some very disturbing results. Instead of the bell hop pointing out the bloody obvious like opening a small door and expecting me to be hugely impressed when he says 'fridge' instead of 'hotel cash machine' why can he not explain how the inevitable mishmash of light switches all relate to each other? I am forever getting into bed and hitting some knob that instead of turning the lights out, turns on a hairdryer or activates the TV. Even once I’ve mastered how the actual switches work, the lighting is so bad that my wife insists I bring a flashlight to help with her make-up.

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Welcome aboard…. is enough

Why...

"Welcome aboard flight UR OXN flying from Heathrow to Sydney. My name is Sandra and I will be assisted by Dee in First class, Ben and Jerry in business and some trainees I look down on in economy. We understand you have a choice of other airlines and appreciate your custom ........We will be cruising today at 35, 000 feet at approximately 900 kilometres, or 560 miles or 490 knots per hour. First I need you all to pay attention to the safety demonstration, even those amongst you who have flown before…..” And so it begins. Flight attendants have become nannies in the sky, ready to instruct and scold. They know best. So listen up….and just to make you are awake the speakers screech with feedback. Most of us just want to recover from a cavity search after foolishly packing a pair of nail clippers in our hand luggage and watch a movie. The only thing we may ask the cabin staff (whose name is on their badge) is to turn the heating down.

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Anyone who yells “I know my rights”... invariably does not

Why...

Do people think watching episodes of Law and Order or Judge Judy qualifies them to understand all aspects of the law, when most don’t know their writs from their tits? During my last trip in the aluminium hen coop they call Air Malta, I tilted my chair back a fraction. As some of you know I have had back surgery and sitting bolt upright for three hours is painful. Immediately behind me this beached whale kicked the back of my chair and slapped the top of my head yelling, “I know my rights. Put your chair back in upright position. I have no room.” Rather than get into a huge fight, I simply pulled out a card and gave it to him, whispering, “So, do I”. He shut up. It was not my card, but a lawyer’s card from one of the UK’s top law firms I had recently visited. It read Senior Litigation Partner.

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Don’t talk to me. I’m breathing and I can’t do two things at once

Why...

Is the law about to stop me talking? (Hooray you all cry.) I see there is legislation being pushed to stop people using a hands-free phone whilst driving as it disturbs concentration. The idea that you are incapable of driving a car and having a conversation is absurd. And the idea that a phone call requires more concentration than talking to your passenger is equally daft. Let me tell you, I have to concentrate far more whilst conversing with my passenger, especially if it’s my wife, than chatting on the phone. For a start, I can’t pull a long face, flick her the bird, put her on mute, mutter obscenities under my breath, pick my nose, fart or even ignore her, like I can a voice in the ether. If communication whilst operating a vehicle is so dangerous, how come pilots who are constantly on the radio, don’t veer off to Iceland when on the way to the Costa Brava? Ships heading for Rotterdam don’t end up at Pismo Beach? The real problem of course is that a couple of generations have grown up whose idea of a conversation is texting. People just don’t have conversations, especially in a car. Usually there is a stereo blasting away so loud it makes your ears bleed. So, when a call does come in, an inordinate amount of concentration is needed to hold a conversation. Or worse they text. Result… car crash. Perhaps as part of the driving test, the examiner should have a heated debate on politics or religion. Or the person taking the test should take a call from the Boss.

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Cover up! ...My wife, the sunscreen Nazi

Why...

Does my wife insist I face the summer’s rays, either fully covered up or looking like an animated meringue… a white blob completely covered in cream? As I watch Sky News today from Malta, I see the UK is nudging 40c (104 Fahrenheit). My fellow countrymen are slowly melting whilst watching their new Prime Minister inflict verbal assault and battery on the Leader of the Opposition in his first Prime Minister’s Question Time. I note none of the MP’s gathered are smothered in sun cream despite it being hotter than Beelzibub’s underpants. Clearly their wives have never met mine.

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Assume the position...

July 5, 2019
Fasion Health & Beauty Life Travel/Nature Work
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Why...

On some occasions do I happily perform physical feats that I know are pointless or make me look like a gormless half-wit? Another day, another business flight... another useless safety demonstration. My favourite part is when instructed, I must… “Assume the brace position” (i.e. bend forward, head on lap, hands locked under knees). The only position I am assuming, is that in a moment or two I will be zipping through the Pearly Gates of St. Peter at 600MPH. Whether seconds before this I perform a handstand or a fiendishly complicated yoga position, will make no difference to the outcome.

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Why hasn’t Viagra saved the rhino?

Why...

Are rhinos still being hunted? I read with some joy that a bunch of white rhinos from different European zoos are meeting in Prague for a few days of R and R before being shipped out for their club 18-30 holiday village in the wilds of Rwanda. It is hoped the traditional summer holiday spirit of fornication, so alive from Fort Lauderdale to Magaluf, will also turn our teen-age rhinos into sex machines and help build back their numbers. Apparently, rhinos are polite beasts and like a ‘getting-to-know-you’ cocktail party before deciding to mate. Hence the Prague get together. Rhino courtship is in fact quite complex involving a lot of pooh smelling by the males to determine which fragrance most pleases them. I can just imagine the chit chat over a gin and tonic: “I say, Griselda. I was mighty impressed with the aroma of your pile back there. I wonder if you would care to accompany me for a stroll in the forest once we reach our holiday destination?” “Why thank you Herman, yes I spent several hours choosing the right food to leave that bouquet. How gallant of you to notice. I’d be delighted to take a walk with you. Meanwhile can you pass me some of those pineapple and cheese chunks on a stick and top up my drink?” Now a rhinoceros is in fact quite a peaceful thing. However, when you reckon they weigh 2,300 kilos and run at twice the speed of Usain Bolt at full tilt, it’s best not to piss them off. Coz you ain’t getting away from them. I spent a pleasant afternoon with some in Nepal not long ago. One did bear a big gash over a hind quarter, but the guide assured me this was a result of a little light foreplay before getting down to some serious rutting rather than ramming a tourist vehicle! However, their ground up horns are highly prized to cure erectile dysfunction. Daft really as it’s made from hair, not bone and thinking hair can help an erection is like thinking you can play snooker with cooked spaghetti. This dust, however, costs as much as Viagra. I do not understand how there is a market for an expensive piece of witchcraft that does not work as opposed to a little blue pill that does. Surely the easiest way to stop this trade is to make Viagra available at deep discounts in those parts of the world that believe this nonsense... and cut the Johnson off anyone stupid enough to buy rhino horn instead of the pill, as they clearly have no idea how a willy works. I suspect by adopting those two simple ideas, the rhino poaching problem would be solved.

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Time travel exists... if you can splash the cash

Why...

Can’t I have my own flux capacitor in a Delorean car, like Marty McFly in Back to the Future? There are a couple of people whom I would love to revisit in the past and give them some sound investment tips; Atari, Pan Am and Bernie Madoff! However, in the real world anyone who actually wants to experience time travel simply has to go to a National Health Service A&E department at the nearest hospital to remove the saucepan stuck on their toddler’s head. By the time their infant is extricated he or she will be a teen-ager and the parent will be eligible for a pension. If however, they had shelled out for private A&E they’d be home in time for tea and the private hospital would no doubt scrub the saucepan before returning it. Same result... decades apart! Now, before you all yell at me that this is a disgrace and elitist, I fully accept there are people who have no option but to use the NHS. However it’s £100 for this service privately. The same as a family dinner, a football ticket or a couple of months of Sky TV. Plenty of people can afford those. It’s really about priorities and our sense of entitlement. It’s no different from buying a priority boarding pass on an economy airline so that they can cattle-prod you to the front of the queue. For me it’s worth it not to sit next to a gaggle of hen party revellers or be lectured by an expert on Brexit for three hours. And the same journey can feel like it’s taking twice as long if seated next to someone listening to rap music but without headphones rather than a pretty girl asking what she should do all on her own at her new destination. Well, that’s the theory of relativity explained for you. The only equaliser amongst us all is time and how we allocate it. Having spent a week bouncing around North America, then a week unpacking furniture, had I the money I would gladly have paid other people to do either.

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Attention Airlines. I am not an egg. Please don’t poach me

Why...

Do airlines insist on cabins being too hot when you board? I admire pilots. My son is one. The only thing more difficult to understand how to operate than a plane is possibly Donald Trump’s hairdryer… but not a simple thermostat. So please, all cabin crew, can we set cabins at a temperature that human life as we know it can survive when we board? Overheated cabins incense me (in every sense of the word) so much that I have started to take a digital thermometer with me when I travel. I enjoy waving this at the In-Flight Attendant showing a toasty 28c/86f degrees and once in my seat I loudly suggest: “Excuse me, after three minutes I should be perfectly poached. My wife sitting next to me wonders if you would bring her some buttered toast to accompany her meal.”

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Moving house... so time for an overseas trip or be admitted to hospital

Why...

Does my wife and I moving to a new house together equate to impending divorce? My wife was brought up a military brat and so as a kid moved to a new house every two or three years. To her, it’s a disciplined exercise, undertaken with logic. To me it’s a maelstrom of chaos mixed with a healthy dollop of fear. Without fail, the one thing I need will be in the last box I unpack. This means as soon as we arrive, I start emptying one of 300 boxes to find this missing necessity (for example my lucky underpants worn at crucial meetings), without which life as I know it will cease and my business will go bust. On our first move together, my scurrying from box to box emptying contents all over the floor to unpack that moment’s ‘must find item’ upset my wife and sent her off to find a pick-ax to discourage me from my manic actions. That was the first and last time we moved house together. We survived the experience thanks to industrial strength tranquillisers, a plantation’s output of tobacco and a vat full of booze. After that trauma, during all other moves I have either:

been in the US on business,
been in hospital with pneumonia
or left the country at the start of a tax year.

By some miracle each time I arrive back at our new home, I find nearly everything unpacked and all that’s left is to hang the pictures and iron my lucky underpants.

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Big brother is watching... while serving you bacon and eggs

January 10, 2019
Animals/Pets Kids/Family/Relations Travel/Nature
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Why...

Do I get paranoid about waiters who hover and watch over me?

We have just returned from an exercise in fear that my wife called a holiday in Nepal. Somewhere around 50 years old I turned from someone happy to do a handstand on the top of the 50 metre/160 ft high Roman Aqueduct The Pont du Gard to becoming afraid of heights. When I was in my twenties, before a litany of accidents, I was scared of nothing. Fall off a horse a few times and suddenly it gets harder to get back in that saddle. Therefore the knocks and bangs from reckless adventuring in my life has annoyingly driven fear through experience into my psyche. The self preservation instinct has turned me from Leo the Lion into The Cowardly Lion.

Nevertheless I was always told to face down your fears... so not to be outdone by my fearless (and younger) wife, I gritted my teeth through a helicopter ride across Annapurna range and a plane ride to Mount Everest! Added to this was a jump off Mount Annapurna in a hang glider and a trip on the world’s fastest (120KPH 80 MPH) and longest (2km 1.2mile) zip line. Toss into that an encounter with several rhinos and a tiger... all without having to change my underpants.

My wife on the other hand thought all this a hoot and in every photo is seen grinning like Jack Nicholson in One flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest while I had the fixed manic smile when Jack played the Joker in Batman. I have tried to explain to her to make the most of it as soon, she too will be grabbed by old age jitters.

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?Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? ?Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne. WTF does this actually mean..?

Why...

Do a gazillion people hail the new year with this unintelligible song?

At least in the previous week we have had some variations with Christmas hits of years gone by, but when it comes to the New Year this Scottish caterwauling is all we can summon up.

It might be justifiable if anyone could actually remember the lyrics but like a few other songs (most notably Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Deep Blue Something, Or Blinded by the Light by Bruce Springsteen) I can only remember the song title which I loudly sing out... then mumble through the rest. So for once, this New Year I am somewhere where I will be spared this song.

As you read this, I will have spent a week trying to keep up with my wife trudging through Nepal. Whilst in the sweltering heat of a Maltese summer, I admit a few days amongst the ice and snow of Everest had a certain appeal. I fear as I stand here at midnight with a wind chill factor so cold my pubic hair crackles, I might have made an error of judgement.

All day I was sure I had ice in my veins. As midnight approached I had just had my first shot of local hooch Aila. It had an interesting effect on my stomach, tasting like something between Draino and molten lava. It has had the desired effect. My body is glowing, my cheeks the colour of condemned veal and hot enough to toast a crumpet... but I wonder if the fire will continue all the way down the alimentary canal and result in a sprint to the bathroom. Difficult in yak boots.

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New York hotel bank of Elevators win gold at synchronised swimming and why my etiquette rules can mean death

Why...

Can no one programme elevators so they don’t all go up and down in unison? It is nearly fifty years since man started leaving litter on the moon, yet we can still spend a lifetime watching a bank of elevators all going in the same direction and stopping at the same floors... at the same time. I’m no early riser so can cut leaving a hotel a little fine to get to an airport or meeting on time. I once spent 15 minutes in a New York hotel waiting for an elevator to make it up to the 35th floor. Rather like waiting for a bus, long periods of nothing happening, then suddenly all six elevators arrived at my floor at the same time. I suspect to this day if you dusted the elevator call button for fingerprints, mine would come up as I had pushed the damned fluorescent decent arrow so often in exasperation they must still be engraved on it.

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Your call is important to us... because we are charging you suckers $1 a minute to wait till we bother to answer

Why...

Do I bother trying to track down customer service? Nearly all consumer product company websites are designed to keep the customer service email and call centre numbers harder to find than spotting ‘Where’s Waldo’. If I do find the telephone number in the haystack of info, rise early and call in the first seconds of opening time, I always seem so unlucky! As if by magic, that very day it appears everyone else is doing the same thing. “Due to a high volume of calls...” Translate that into: “Due to lack of us staffing this place with enough people to bat away the volley of complaints raining down on us like arrows in the battle of Agincourt, we will at least make money out of you suckers by increasing call capacity to 1,000 idiots at $1 per minute so we can make $60,000 an hour doing nothing but reading the papers.” To add insult to injury these customer call centres are usually located in Nowheresville Uzbekistan, Mongolia or possibly Scranton. Get through and you might as well talk to an aardvark as all you get is a script with no room for nuance or common sense. In addition I am sure most of the call centre staff would have more chance, blindfolded, pinning the tail on a donkey, than into a map to identify where I am calling from.

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All posts in category: Travel/Nature

Never ask for directions and other essential tourist information...

Why...

DIY classes and Bear Grylls never taught me how to colour my wife’s roots

Why...

Three weeks in lockdown and I just got plastered

Why...

The joys of becoming an accidental medical tourist

Why...

I wish you all a Happy New Year... now here’s something to add a little sparkle!

Why...

I will get arrested if I ask a stranger to stuff my pudding in her secret little container

Why...

My Eyebrows are Silky Soft and my Hair Smells of Listerine

Why...

Welcome aboard…. is enough

Why...

Anyone who yells “I know my rights”... invariably does not

Why...

Don’t talk to me. I’m breathing and I can’t do two things at once

Why...

Cover up! ...My wife, the sunscreen Nazi

Why...

Assume the position...

Why...

Why hasn’t Viagra saved the rhino?

Why...

Time travel exists... if you can splash the cash

Why...

Attention Airlines. I am not an egg. Please don’t poach me

Why...

Moving house... so time for an overseas trip or be admitted to hospital

Why...

Big brother is watching... while serving you bacon and eggs

Why...

?Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? ?Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne. WTF does this actually mean..?

Why...

New York hotel bank of Elevators win gold at synchronised swimming and why my etiquette rules can mean death

Why...

Your call is important to us... because we are charging you suckers $1 a minute to wait till we bother to answer

Why...