Well my 3rd consecutive weekend away. This time I was visiting a place called the Corris Hostel.

Picked up by Brian, we stop off to pick up Sue, and popped in for a cup of tea (its one of the cleanest houses I’ve ever visited, and smelled like a hotel).

Anyway, as we were leaving, we met a neighbours dog, who Sue sometimes takes for a walk (Sue lives in one of those nice areas, where people don’t steal each others washing from the line). I was entranced by a small lively dog called Maggie.

Firstly, Maggie, is a woman’s name. Its like calling a cat Alison, or an Afghan hound Graham. Anyway, this little dog had sadly suffered cancer as a pup, and only had 3 legs. The thing that struck me was her sheer vitality and energy. For a tiny dog, she bounded with more exuberance, than a dog 5 times her size.

I thought that was a good metaphor for adventure generally. OK, the 3 of use weren’t walking naked into the Borneo Jungle with just a copy of the daily telegraph and a knitting needle, but we were out in search of adventure all the same.

Made me think, whatever your disadvantages, however modest your project, just like Maggie (it still feels strange calling a dog Maggie, by the way) put 150% of yourself into it.

Previously, my preferred type of accommodation was en-suit rooms in pubs like the Keswick Lodge (which has now been renamed the Inn at Keswick).

Because of the recession less people are going abroad, and lots of the pubs I would have previously stayed at, are now charging £90 plus for a room for one night (and in some cases up-to £120, and charging extra for breakfast !).

As a result, I turned my hand to hostelling. It has all the freedom and comfort of a pub b&b, but at a cost of around £14 per night.

We were staying in the hamlet of Corris, where the hostel there has a Nirvana reputation.

Above you can see they have a fireplace, comfy armchairs, tables for for communal eating and stuff like that, and a superb collection of interesting books.

They have a couple of private rooms, with en-suit sinks. I decided to sleep in one of the dorms, where they were cleverly compartmentalised to keep noise to a minimum.

I was shown to my bunk. It had the kind of décor that my bedroom had when I was 6, but it was also spotlessly clean and the quilt was warm.

They also had electricity, so unlike Skiddaw House I was able to charge my phone.

We got speaking to the hostel keeper. We were asking if business was doing well. Its then that it occurred to me. In this corner of life, there are 2 types of business.

1. If I have an idea, like importing bathroom tiles or something like that, I leave my job, and run the business to make the best possible profit for myself.

2. If I’m an accountant and I want to leave and setup a business leading mountain bike tours, then the job is the reward itself and all I need is a break even situation.

So, when asking someone like this, how business is going and he replies were surviving, that mean (in relative terms) that business is going very well.

I wander into the hamlet to explore.

They have a Steam train from there, which is running the following day (Fathers day), but we’ll be walking, so there isn’t any time to do it (as I’ve said before, I’ve been in a helicopter, a hovercraft, a submarine and a dozen other things but I’ve never actually been on a steam train.

I also found this waterfall.

In the evening we wandered down to the Slaters arms.

I imagine its normally a quiet place, but a group of lads were there to celebrate a stag do.

We had some dinner and a couple of pints. The service was excellent and the pub was really friendly.

We were introduced to the groom. It was pretty obvious really, he had a pint pot duck taped to his hand, and was wearing a dress.

Turned out he was a pagan, and the service was going to involve rocks at North, South, East and West. Didn’t really understand it to be honest, but meant a lot to him all the same.

Darts has become a must do activity amongst our group. We challenged the Stag participants to play. At one point, I actually hit a bull. Here Drew, indicates its location (which was amazing considering how much he’d had to drink).

Off to bed. Brian, the dark horse of our trio, was out until 2:30, long after everyone else had retired to bed.

I told the stag people about this website. If your reading this, I hope your wedding goes well, and you have a happy life together.

A lazy start to the day. I get up and read several of the excellent books  (and I didn’t even steal them to read at home either).

A more modest walk than usual, we stop on the hillside for brunch.

On the way home, we stop at Balla. Everyone enjoys scrambled eggs on toast.

Back home, and our adventure is over.

Really enjoyed the hostel, Ill be going there again.

People always say that opposites attract. Sometimes similarities attract.

Out for a drink one evening with Sue and Brian.

Brian mentions a place he likes called Skiddaw house. Its the highest hostel in the UK, at around 1500 feet.

That’s how adventure seeds are planted.

In other pub groups of friends, it would be agreed that “one day” we would go there. Except the people who I’m proud to call my friends, are like me, and six weeks later, were on our way there to visit !.

The hut has no electricity and can (realistically) only be reached on foot after a 2 hour walk.

I was unsure what the situation was with catering, so I took all the food I would need for 2 and a half days (ready made sandwiches for lunch, pasta for evening meals, breakfast bars, well, for breakfast). Tea and coffee are provided at the hostel.

I included my usual treats of chocolate limes, aero and hot chocolate sachets (Cheryl asked me to point out that they were fair trade). I also took a “Gerry Cochrane” inspired Sig bottle filled with whisky and 2 cans of coke for evening “entertainment”.

For clothing I just took a change of underwear and socks, a spare jumper for the evenings and a pair of trainers for trotting around the hostel.

Minimal wash kit, no first aid kit, penknife, torch, notebook and pen, sets everything up.

I’m picked up by Pete, and along with Cheryl and Dave, we hit the motorway.

We pass Keswick and arrive at Threlkeld. Brian had spent the day or two previous with some friends visiting from France.

He had caught the bus from Penrith, and through careful planning (and quite a lot of luck) we all arrived at the Horse and Farrier at about the same time.

We had a couple of pints, and got to know our French friends.

By about 2pm, we decided to head off. There was a discussion about doing a peak on the way. It was the usual story for me, in order to have Friday off, I’d had a hectic busy week so I was quite tired.

I decided to go straight to the Hostel with a mixed bag of French and English companions.

The weather turned rough about half way, but overall things were fine.

The path wound along, and we were presented with this sight.

At first look, Skiddaw house, doesn’t look like a cottage or anything, and someone compared it to a row of council houses.

The key thing about the place for me, is its altitude and isolation. As estate agents always say, the 3 most important things about property, are location, location, location.

This has all the remoteness and simplicity (and can I say spirituality without sounding like a pretentious bastard ?) of a bothy, but a few home comforts, like environmentally friendly heating, running water and showers.

Its also halfway up loads of amazing hills and mountains. I’ve been around the world 3 times, but put simply, there isn’t anywhere quite like here.

We are welcomed in by Martin (middle left) and Marie-Pierre (right). The kettle is put on, and we are shown around. It really is an oasis and to my delight, there isn’t even a phone signal (although obviously the hostel has a working phone for emergency’s).

I put all my stuff (what little there is) under my bunk. I’m a bit annoyed, as years ago I bought a silk sleeping bag liner, this is one of the few occasions that I’d get to use it, and I’ve left it at home. I change into my trainers and evening clothes and head downstairs.

Marie-Pierre briefs us on the history of the hostel, kitchen/bathroom protocol and the safety brief re fire escapes and and stuff like that (and since she’s French herself, is able to brief the French girls in their native language).

I’m delighted to find that there’s even a games room, with an extensive collection of interesting books, back issues of Trail magazine and a dartboard.

Both rooms are heated by an aga so its toasty warm (and even able to dry out boots in just an evening).

Dave cooks something, and we tuck into our evening meal. Later, I offer the Whisky around, everyone settles down to relax and interesting conversations are heard throughout the building (in both English and French).

Finally awake, and see this view out of the window. The beds are normal bunks. A bit small for my size, but I sleep soundly all the same.

Head downstairs to the wash-room. I wasn’t expecting too much from the shower, but it was as warm, and the jets as powerful, as any I’ve used in a hotel.

I find cooking in hostels is normally a lot of messing about and I was expecting organised chaos in the kitchen (for this reason I’d brought breakfast bars). As it was, everything seemed to go fine. The hostel provides the option of packed lunches and a breakfast tray (not very expensive) for people who prefer not to carry their own food.

In the scullery, recycling is quite rightly taken very seriously at Skiddaw house, and there are bins for every sort of wast.

Washed down with a cup of tea (my friends had found a mug in the hostel with John on it) I’m setup for the day.

And the day beings. Brian briefs everyone on various options for the days walk. He knows what he’s doing, and I’m enjoying myself, so just leave him to it and follow the pack.

Boots, waterproof jacket and new walking trousers (controversially not Rohan this time), and we head out.

The hills and deep valleys of the lakes are recognisable all over the world and the views and scenery doesn’t disappoint.

We wander around the side, and then up onto Skiddaw (3054 feet high, the 4th highest in the Lake district). I spend some time getting to know the French crew.

Their really fun interesting people, but I have to talk slowly as the language I speak when I’m excited is far from English.

Cloud cover is really low. Although Skiddaw has some of the best views in the “district” these aren’t visible from the peak.

Still, we get to the top (and once again, I forget to tuck in my t-shirt before being photographed).

There is a sort of stone wall just nearby, and a number of people are eating lunch using it as a windbreak. I’m convinced I recognised one of them. I ask some of the lads to go over and confirm his identity. Nobody wants to.

I’m realistic and honest about the situation. If I walk over and its not him, I’m going to look stupid (but only to some strangers, who I’ll never see again). If I don’t walk over, ill go through the rest of my life, wondering if I nearly met one of my heroes.

A person who has faced death 100 times and one of the greatest Britons who’s ever lived. The first person to climb the Ogre and who’s photographs hang in every room in my house.

The bluelist, 3 trips around the world, the bushcraft, the deserts, the jungle and quite literally the mountain I’m now standing on all happened because of a passion and love for adventure inspired in me from my early teens from his exploits.

So with all the courage I can muster, I walk over, introduce myself, apologise for interrupting their lunch and ask “Are you Sir Chris Bonington ?”.

To my delight, its actually him. A living legend right in front of me.

I decide not to say anything too grandiose (although what I’m experiencing is one of the five most important moments of my life). I say simply your an inspiration and its a pleasure to meet you.

He replies simply thank you (that’s the other thing about truly great people. They are usually modest and unassuming, and if you didn’t know, you could sit next to one of them on the bus and not know it).

I ask if it would be OK to take a photograph of him, to remember the moment. He replies I should sit on the rock next to him, and Poppy will take a picture of us. The photograph takes a few seconds then I thanked him, shook hands and went on my way.

Back with my walking friends, they start to teas me about it. I’m speechless, this had been a great day up-to that point, and now its amazing, and one Ill remember for the rest of my life.

Still, a man cant live on inspiration alone, I sit down and eat my sandwiches, in quiet contemplation.

We continue walking, and I’ve got a spring in my step. It would have been amazing to attend one of his lectures, but to meet him in person, by accident on top of a mountain is something I could only have imagined.

We walk a few more miles then come to a cliff. Well it would have been a cliff with spectacular views, but the fog has put paid to that. I’m feeling pretty mellow at this point.

Back at the hostel, I tell Martin and Marie-Pierre about meeting Chris Bonington. Turns out they have met him too, at the official opening of the hostel (they have a book with photo’s showing the renovation of the hostel, and on the final page is Sir Chris).

Our French cousins maintain their international reputation for Cuisine, as they cook their evening meal. A very elaborate process, involving various preparation techniques, herbs and spices and even vegetables they’d foraged during the day.

I’m offered a tasting bowl. Its quite delicious and as good as anything I’ve eaten in the Grosvenor Arkle.

I’m expecting a helicopter to arrive with the re-formed Smiths providing an impromptu concert, and another carrying Halle Berry, who wants to have sex with me (its about the only way I think this day can get any better 🙂

Some singing takes place in the games room. I hang out in the common room, read Trail magazine, write down ideas for adventures and learn more about environmental stuff from Cheryl and Pete.

I, like a lot of people, tend to think of environmentalism as a bit OTT. The truth is, shouldn’t water be clean, without any kind of metal in it.  I think everyone, no matter what their politics, must agree with this.

Still filled with excitement, I’m up until after midnight. A drink of hot chocolate, then bed.

I have a lie in bed (8.30am). Eat my breakfast bars, drink my tea and than pack (sadly) for the journey home.

Outside I run into Sophie who is preparing for a days walking (Brian and the French contingent are staying on for a few days).

We say our goodbyes to Martin and Marian. I kiss the French girls goodbye, but decide just to shake hands with the men.

I’ve grown to really like Sophie, so we exchange email addresses and agree to send each other our photo’s.

Walking back down the path, the weather is much better. We chat about various stuff. The weekend is almost over, and I’m enjoying the kind of contentedness I can only really feel in the outdoors.

Back to the pub for a pint and bite to eat, then we set off home.

I’ve got a picture of me and Chris Bonington on my desk now, but it doesn’t end there.

I used to love a restaurant in Chester, called the Brasserie 10/16. I loved the food there so much, that I didn’t want to spoil myself with regular visits and wanted to keep it special.

By only visiting on valentines day, and on my birthday I was able to maintain this.

The head chef was a good friend who drank in the Frog & Nightingale.

He came into the pub one evening looking a bit down. I asked him what was wrong, and he said that the restaurant had closed.

In a friendly and polite way, he said he had been flattered that I loved the place so much that I didn’t over indulge, but lots of other people felt the same, and despite good intentions, this had cost them their restaurant.

Thing is, I had an amazing time at Skiddaw house, but cosy warm feelings and visits every 5 years wont keep this unique opportunity available forever.

To do that, you can either visit it (which I’d definitely recommend) or become a friend/conserver/patron of Skiddaw house.

 

Apologies if this post isn’t as balanced as usual. Dan was here on Friday, and adjusted my chair, without asking.

In fact, while your reading this, go on youtube and listen to the wild beasts (they are pretentious musicians).

They have a song called lions share. Listen to it, I’m convinced that the chorus says “lying shit” rather than lions share, but I’d appreciate other views.

Well, Glenn completed the triathlon which is an amazing achievement, and got me thinking.

The Queens Diamond Jubilee weekend was coming up (lots of people have views on this). Personally, I don’t and won’t ever buy into the idea of high birth, but I am proud of Britain’s heritage. Instead of having a party and making a hat out of a handkerchief with knots in it, I decide on something else.

Part of the British tradition is adventure (it was Edmund Hillary and Tensing Norgay who stood on top of Everest on the day of the Queens actual coronation). Although I can only stand in the shadow of those 2 great men, adventure is a relative concept.

I decide that I’ll ride to Llangollen (a place I love more each time I visit it) camp overnight, and then ride back the next day.

The weekend began with Friday. Absolutely insane, with loads to do at work, and private clients to help in the afternoon. Shattered, I head back to Chester and relax by the Canal with a couple of pints (the Lock Keeper has re-opened, but they let anyone in now, and its a bit rubbish).

Saturday morning, I rise early and check my equipment. I’m taking a tent, sleeping bag and kip mat all inside a 25 litre rucksack (for comparison, its smaller than the one I normally take to work).

I take a few essentials like money, a penknife and a head torch as well.

As I look out of the window, there’s no sunshine and light drizzle. Not optimistic, but this is the adventure line. This is the thing I’ve written about before, the moment where you think is it really worth it. In reality, the cycling will be easy, the real challenge is ignoring the weather and the urge to relax in a warm house, and getting on the bike and getting out there.

I decided to take the route I normally ride to the Golden Groves. Pedalled a bit further and met Sue at the Plough.

From here we pedalled to the Pant-yr-ocian. Christine Kennedy had told me about this place, nearly 10 years ago, and what a pub !. Service was superb, décor excellent, they had an extensive menu and most important off all, it felt friendly.

We had a pint, and then set off (although we did stay for 90 minutes, as I was really enjoying myself. We had to pass through Wrexham, and Sue lead the way, so I have no idea where we went.

I realise now how lucky Wrexham people are. They have the mountains and countryside, literally on their doorstep, Sue knows the area inside out as she walks and cycles around here all the time.

We encountered a street, with Tesco, a bakery, a chippy and a kebab shop. Sue bought a sensible sandwich, and I had a chip butty, just for the hell of it. Apparently, this is the village where Sue was born, and her parents still live here.

Another couple of miles, and we reach a pub. The last one before Llangollen I’m told. We debate locking up the bikes and going inside.

I’m a bit concerned at this point. Thing is, a modern bike, is a collection of components. If you fasten the frame of your bike to a fence, then technically “the bike” can’t be stolen. The gears on the bike, are probably worth £100 and they can be removed with a par of pliers, as can the brakes, the saddle, handlebars and wheels, and stuff like lights and bike pumps.

We decide to stand outside with our bikes. I felt a bit daft to be honest. A couple of local lads having a smoke outside, spoke to the barman, and he said we were welcome to bring out bikes in the pub and sit down (where there was a nice fire !).

We declined, as we were only staying for 1 drink, and it would have involved a bit of messing about. I was taken aback by the willingness to help of the locals who after all, stand to benefit nothing by helping us, and were helping simply because they were good people.

After this, there are more hills and the rain gets a little worse. At this point, it starts to become obvious, that Sue is an experienced cyclist and very fit, and that I (on my third outing) just aren’t up to a 20 od mile ride, with equipment. I put my bike in a very low gear (to people that don’t know, this means I have to peddle about 5 times, to get the wheel to turn once)

This works as I have limited strength in my legs, but loads of stamina. Over time, I expect this to change, and I also think my bike may need
some adjustment, as I was pedalling my from knees, rather than my thighs. I also got off, and pushed, every time we came to a hill !.

Still, the goal was to get to Llangollen, under my own steam, and self contained with all the gear I would need on my back and this was going to plan.

I never once thought of giving up, but as the afternoon progressed I became a bit demoralised. At that point, I realised we’ve arrived at a tea
house just near Llangollen, so I know we didn’t haven’t too far to go.

Hot chocolate and cake (there are Union Jacks in the Tea house, which we’ve seen, most of the day.

They bring us tea by mistake and Sue asks to change them in an assertive yet charming way. I would have just drunk the tea. Made me think,
have I become so obsessed with avoiding fuss, that I’ve now become a push over !.

No time for that, were on the last leg (and in my case on my last legs !). Peddle a bit further along the flat, with fog blocking what would  normally be a spectacular view over Llangollen. From here we cruise (and that’s the first time all day that I could use that phrase) downhill to the camp-site.

Then it hits me, what if they haven’t got enough room. I mention this to Sue, and her face drops. I realise that although she’s got me this far, the thought of pedalling home with me at 1 mile an hour, tests her normal enthusiasm.

No problem, 7 quid and I’ve got my pitch. The camp-site is mad busy despite the rain, but my new tent is only 6 foot by 2 and a half
(someone called it a canvas coffin, but it isn’t that big !)

Sue leaves me and heads back for Wrexham, I put up my tent. Its brand new, I’m really pleased with it, but looking back, Im convinced that I didn’t actually put it up properly !.

I get a couple of hours of badly needed sleep, then Sue drives back into Llangollen and we visit a couple of pubs in the town. I really appreciate her company. I can manage fine on my own, but spending time in the company of friends is always much better, than just sitting in the corner of a pub on your own.

Regretfully, the chippy is shut as I had back to the camp-site, so I go to the kebab shop. Sue drives me back to the camp-site, which is up a massive hill, then I put my head down and drift off to sleep.

I slept soundly, but all night I could hear the rain (which was now quite ferocious) battering the tent. The good news, you get what you pay for in with outdoor gear. The tent’s expensive, but keeps me dry, all night. I wake at 5:07am. Its daylight, but the weather is appalling. I quickly pack up my stuff, put it into my bag, and head for home.

First problem. My legs are so stiff, and I’m so fatigued from the previous day, that I cant ride the bike, and Im only able to push it along slowly. From time to time, I come to a hill, so just sit on the bike, and point it down hill.

I don’t know the exact route home, but decide to walk along the Canal to the Ruabon railway station. I don’t remember it being too far, but in driving rain, it seems to take hours to get there.

From here, things start to unravel. I’m now relying on the GPS in my phone, to get me home. I send a quick text to Glenn and Sue, and then right before my eyes, the phone says shutting down. I’m unable to re-boot it after several attempts.

The only thing I know for certain, is that the A483, runs to Wrexham, which is in the direction of home. I while the bike along the edge of the road, in some of the foulest weather I’ve ever been out in.

I’m now soaked to the skin, as the rain has got through the neck opening of my waterproof jacket, and soaked my t-shirt, jumper and trousers. A trench along the edge of the motorway is 4 inches deep in water, which I walk through for several miles.

I cant call and ask anyone to pick me up, as the phone is out. I realise I should have listened to Ben Mcnutt’s advise. Technology is great, but never come to depend on it completely, if it lets you down, you really will be stuck. And I am.

My energy is running down. I’m getting tired, dehydrated and hungry.

First piece of good news.

I only ate half my kebab the previous evening. For no reason I can think, I put the remaining half in my bag that morning. Starving hungry, I tuck into this unlikely meal.

After a couple more hours, I arrive in Wrexham. Sue lives in Wrexham, but I cant remember where, and I cant call her. Its 11 miles to Chester, and I consider walking the “Golden Groves” route. I think better of it, I’m hagard. I head for Wrexham railway station, and Ill get the train home.

For the 2nd time that day, to quote the Black Adder, fortune vomits on my eiderdown. I thought I had £35, which was plenty enough, but I realise I’d only bought £25. The train doesn’t arrive for an hour. I’m freezing, and I’ve only got £3.90, so I probably don’t have enough for the train, and I haven’t got enough for a warm drink at the cafe on the platform.

I shiver on the platform for another hour, mentally recalling the capital city of every country in the world, and various other “keep you mind busy” tricks.

Train arrives. Ticket collector see’s the state I’m in, and says how much have you got. I put it in his hand, and he gives me a ticket.

The warmth of the train, is the first I’ve known since last night in the pub, and I start to feel sleepy. I wake to find myself in Chester, and push the bike to my house.

Bath, bed for a couple of hours, and life returns to normal.

I relax later with some hot chocolate, and reflect on my experience. Lessons learned:

1. Most people are basically descent.

2. Reliable (and knowledgeable) friends like are worth their weight in Gold.

3. My new tent is smart.

4. I can fit all my stuff in a 25 litre bag.

5. Always have a copy of phone numbers written on paper, as a backup

6. Don’t be bloody stupid and over do it. Enthusiasm and determination are 1 thing, but transforming your physical fitness in 24hrs through mental focus is biologically impossible.

All the photos I took were on the phone, so sorry that there’s only 1 picture.

Finally, great-full and sincere thanks to Sue. None of it would have been possible without her kind and enthusiastic help.

The search for adventure continues…

An absolutely amazing weekend, started with a pub crawl I organised for the walking group.

A couple of months ago, Brian, Sue and I had an impromptu trip into Chester. We went in various pubs at random, most of which you’d normally just walk past, but with 1 notable exception, they were all really good. One pub in particular (the Cottage on Brook street) made us really welcome, tried to teach us darts, and overall were superb.

The idea of the pub crawl, was to take the group to some pub like this one. As often happens, things didn’t go to plan. Id intended to start the crawl at the Lock-keeper on Canal-side (a favourite haunt of mine, from my earliest days in Chester). The email had gone out to everyone in plenty of time, but with just a day or 2 to go, the Lock-keeper closed down. I had to text everyone and re-schedule for the Marlborough arms. After all that, as I set out on Friday night, I found that the “Lock” had actually re-opened after all, and I needn’t have bothered.

On Saturday, I got up early and went for a walk around the Meadows and Dukes drive. In the afternoon, I met up with Dan and a couple of friends, and we had a few drinks around town. At the end of the evening, we had a couple of Curry’s at Asia fusion.

On Sunday, I spent the morning catching up on my reading (see bellow) and then went out on my bike again, to the Golden Groves. Im really getting into cycling now, and its great to have a sort of “target” to head for. If I just “go out” on my bike, I usually find myself back in the house 45 minutes later.

After I got back, I had a visit from Tony, and it turned out there was a music festival going on at Brook Street, just a hundred yards from my house. We went over, and I wasn’t enthusiastic. Turns out, it was really good, I ended up staying for several hours. I even texted Glenn, who despite taking part in a Triathlon earlier in the day, came along. We also ran into Pete and Cath from the walking group. Loads of great music and friendly people, but the highlight for me had to be an old man who shamelessly stripped to his underwear and starting dancing around !.

We actualy finished that night with a Curry as well, this time at the Spice Balti.

Its said that the BBC news service is probably the most respected around the world. Certainly, their website comes in consistently in the top 10 most visited websites each year.

I trust their news reporting, but I couldn’t help laughing the other day, when I found out about the logo mix-up.

What the report was meant to say, was that Amnesty International (who’s logo is a candle with barbed wire around it) were critical of the United Nations Security Council.

Thing is, the UN security council, doesn’t have a logo of its own, and normally uses the standard UN logo. The logo they ended up with instead, was the logo of UNSC forces. If you’ve ever played Halo as I have, you know that their a fictional group of space marines 🙂

How proud I was to see “my regiment” featured on BBC !.

Other stuff on TV hasn’t been so good. Loads of really good American shows have been cancelled. I could name dozens, but 2 specifically that jump into my head are Alcatraz and the Finder. Still, on the positive front, we’ve got Mad Men, Svu, The Borgias, Family Guy and Game of Thrones, showing at the moment.

Games wise, I’m working my way through modern warfare, with only call of duty 4 and the world at war left to complete.

Years ago, I was into the Smiths (as I still am now). I always envied friends who had all of their albums on cassette. I could never afford that, and ended up using copies, which were never as good. Well, although my music collection is digital, I’ve recently purchased all 5 of the Smiths albums, which I’m happily playing each evening now (if my neighbours are reading this, I apologise).

Out with the walking group the other evening, we were discussing the annoyance of lending books, and not getting them back. One of my favourite books of all time, is Bushcraft, by Ray Mears (not to be confused with Bushcraft Survival, which is more of a spiritual journey kind of book). Anyway, I finally got around the replacing it, and I’ve just started carving a new spoon.

Another book that appealed to me, was the Hobo handbook. Incredibly frank, it talks about living by your own rules, travelling around on trains, eating out of bins, yet has contemporary sections on how to use your laptop at the library to make money. I haven’t read it yet, but for 8 quid, you’ll be lucky to find a more interesting book for your holiday flight.

 

After Curry on both Saturday and Sunday night, I got a call from Debora on Monday, and along with Raymond, we all decided to go out.

Debora has sadly decided to leave Chester, to work in Burton on Trent. Its a shame, she’s a totally cool girl, and I wish she was staying. In explanation, she summarised the problem (in her beautiful Italian accent) as their being too many Bastards. On close investigation, it turns out that she is referring to Landlords and Letting agencies.

Its a while since I used a letting agency, but from previous experience, I couldn’t think of much to challenge her summary. Only thing I did say, was that there were loads of nice people in Chester, who don’t work in that profession.

We started off, with a drink in the awful Harkers Arms (If it were located in any other country, it would be full of English ex-pats. Since its actually in the UK, I’ve never seen the attraction).

As a goodbye, to thank Raymond and I for being such good friends, Debora took us for a curry. Dave and Amanda from the walking group had recommended the Coconut Grove (silly name, but a superb Southern Indian restaurant, and one of the nicest curry’s, I’ve ever eaten in the city).

Its only the 2nd time I’d eaten Southern Indian. There are several differences, but one of the main ones, is they use rice pounded down to make a sort of crust, which they serve with the food. Above you can see a sort of cone crust they had made.

I especially like the way the Nan bread was cooked fresh, that they played 80’s music, and obviously the interesting conversation of my companions.

As we walked back and said our Good Bye’s, we came upon this Swan, which Debora found fascinating.

I was explaining, that wherever they are born, Swans automatically belong to the ruling Monarch (at this moment, Queen Elisabeth II).

I also suggested she might want to keep her distance. Elegant as they are, a peck from a Swan can be particularly vicious.

Well doubtless meet up in Burton on Trent, I’m sure well have more adventures to talk about then.

Times are hard at the moment, and sound financial budgeting is required. Well, that’s all very nice, but after 2 years of watching every penny, I decided to treat myself to a couple of things (no sports cars, just some new walking trousers, some smiths CD’s (mentioned above) and the super light Zephyros 2 tent I’ve always wanted).

Im doing a couple of adventures this month (in fact I’m away every weekend for the next 4 weeks. Over the bank holiday weekend, I’m intending to ride to Llangollen, with just a 25 litre rucksack, to see if I can carry a sleeping bag, kip mat and tent all in such a small and light container. Ill then be staying over, and riding back the next day. Ill tell you what happens.

Out with the walking group the other evening. We did a section of the Sandstone trail. On summer evenings, there isn’t anything nicer than than a walk through the woods, and I pint with a few friends afterwards in some country pub.

Well, we arrived in Tallinn yesterday from Liverpool.

We spent the afternoon familiarising ourselves with the town, and had an inaugural meeting of the Sunter foundation for pub tolerance.

Despite suffering from ill health, and repeated ridicule from Dan and Glenn, I am back in the saddle, in pursuit of adventure.

In fact, this page, is being updated direct from the Super-star ship (I didn’t pick the name) heading for Finland.

The search for adventure continues…

I’ve said many times lately, that the weekend barely seems to last 5 minutes.

But then I had another thought. If time really does fly, when your having fun, perhaps there’s an obvious reason my weekends pass so quickly. Could it be, because I’m getting the most out of the weekend and enjoying it, that that’s the reason it goes so quick.

If that’s correct, then a short weekend is something to be celebrated not complained about.

Take last weekend for example.

Friday night. I finish work, head home, have my Spicy pizza and a glass of Chilean Merlot. Once I’m relaxed, I jump in the bath, then get ready to go out for the evening.

I head out to meet some friends, we have a couple of drinks, then my friend Amanda has arranged an evening at the Laugh Inn in Chester, next to the railway station. Booked in advance, the tickets are supposed to be a tenner, but with my Chester residents card, we are all able to get in for £7.50.

We watch 3 superb comedians (obviously some of my friends like certain comedians more than others, but overall, the spread was pretty good). During the breaks in between, we refresh our drinks, chat and have a fun start to the weekend.

After the show, we head to a pub called Kash. Have a brilliant conversation, hear some funny stories, then its almost midnight.

I head for home, and drift off to sleep, reading the book I received as a birthday gift, from my mate Glenn.

In the morning, I get up early (I normally get up for work at 5:40, so at weekend, 7:30 is a lie in).

I go downstairs and cook a cheese and ham omelette, which I’ve not made before. The results aren’t exactly as I would have liked, but the end result is at least edible.

I fill up my cafetiere, and drink Italian coffee, as I go through my to-read file (throughout the week, if I’ve seen anything interesting in a magazine or on the internet and haven’t had the time to properly read it, I cut it out/photocopy/print it and keep it on one side).

No need to do anything in the house, as everything has already been done on Thursday evening, so as not to contaminate the weekend.

I email some friends, plan/research some trips and then watch a recorded episode of Game of Thrones.

Its 12 lunchtime. I grab a quick sandwich and head out. I’ve arranged to meet my friends Sue and Brian at a pub called the Golden Groves in Rossett.

I’m going to be cycling there, and haven’t been before. A mistake in navigation has me crossing the roundabout near Wrexham road. No matter, I get there on time and my exhaustive cycling is rewarded with a pint. The pub is superb and the service excellent. I’ll be coming here again.

After a couple of hours of chat and discussing weekends away, I head home (Sue recommends a more sensible route, which I take). Brian decides to come with me, and get the train back from Chester to his home on the Wirral.

When we get back, I ask Brian if he would like something to eat. I consider curry/chilli/something creative, but in the end, pie and chips are chosen. While they cook in the oven, we nip next door for a pint in the pub.

While eating, I decide since its a “lad” event that we should watch James Bond (you may have seen it, its the scene with the Korean guy and the punch bag, with another bloke unconscious inside it !).

Brian heads of home and I split my time between my Kindle, and completing Call of Duty – Black Ops.

Sunday, I rise early, make a packed lunch, a flask of tea, and a filling breakfast.

My boots, waterproofs and daysack are all ready, as I head out to meet my lift.

Were doing a circular walk around a place call Llangynog. We arrive, I put my boots on and we set off. A very steep hill climb to start with, and my coat and jumper are removed in the first few minutes.

We plod on, I’m exhausted. We are passed by some people in a landrover. Mountain bikers, they are being driven to the top of the hill, with their bikes on the trailer, so they can enjoy the downhill without any of the effort (if its your sort of thing, you can find out more here ).

Unfazed I carry on. Thing is, in no time at all, were at the top of the hill and the view is spectacular. Its also amazing considering how big the hill looked from the bottom, how little energy it took to get to the top.

The walk, is part of a route devoted to St Melangell.

I thought people were teasing me, when they said it was dedicated to St Melengell, the patron Saint of Hares.

Turn out she actually was. A prince was chasing a hare, and Melangell hid the hare under her skirt, so the prince couldn’t catch it. When he found out, he made her a saint, and gave her some land to setup a church.

I thought that in reality, he probably had her thrown in Irons, but I was delighted to see the actual church is still there (with a female vicar, who reminded me of the vicar of Dibley).

After a brilliant walk, we have a couple of well earned drinks, and then head home.

Back home, its a double bill of House and Special Victims Unit while I cook a curry and prepare for work the following day.

The weekends over, where has it gone ?. Doesn’t feel like 4 hours since I was sat on the train at 4pm on Friday evening.

Next weekend shall I try an experiment and just sit at home and do nothing, to see if it lasts longer. I don’t think so, time is relative to what your doing.

As Albert Einstein said “Sit with a pretty girl for an hour and it feels like a  minute, put your hand in an oven for a minute and its longer than any hour. That’s relativity !”.

Well, the closest Saturday to my birthday came around again.

Friends from work, Chester, back home in Newton Heath, travelling and the walking group, all turned out to wish me well.

Bellow is the superb Star Trek picture I received as a gift from Gaz, one of my old friends from Newton Heath who attended with Nick (who also bought me a superb present, a lighter).

I’d spent the previous 10 days, prepping the house completely, stocking the cupboards and wine rack, and installing a laminated floor, in anticipation of my guests.

Well, sort off. The event was a pub crawl, but I reasoned that at some point, loads of people would end up in my house.

As it was, there were 4 people for 10 minutes (but the house is sorted, so it was worth the effort).

The Friday evening before, I’m relaxing at home, watching old episodes of Battlestar Galactic (the modern opera type one, not the earlier camp one, with the robot dog called Moffet !). I receive a visit from my friend Tony Griffin (who was involved in the laminate floor).

Turns out, that his Daughter’s birthday party is on the same day as mine, so he wont be able to attend. He’s comes over and asks me if I want to go out for the evening. What can I say, its been a long week, and its time to start having fun.

We end up at the Forest house, 15 and finally the Marlborough arms, where this band entertain us late into the night.

In the morning, I start my birthday year,  as I usually do, with scrambled eggs.

Its a long story, but my mum was never very good at cooking (my Grandma had offered to show her many times, but mum was committed to a career and life as a nurse, and had no time for distractions).

Hard to believe now, but in times gone by, if you were in hospital, and didn’t eat your meal, you could ask the nurses to cook you scrambled eggs or cheese on toast. Ironically, mum became expert at cooking these things, as they fitted within the remit of her work as a nurse.

Every year on my birthday, mum would cook scrambled eggs on toast just for me. In the years when I moved away and after she passed away, I’ve continued the tradition.

I head out for the day. I’ve decided to wear cords, a Rohan jumper and just for a change, carry a courier bag, rather than a daysack.

Within minutes I realise the scrambled eggs have left their mark on my jumper. After a few minutes of deliberation, I decide to go out as I am.

Its me after all, if I start turning up immaculate and letting other people speak, they will think my body has been taken over by aliens.

First stop, Chester train station, where I collect the Newton Heath and Phonak contingents, who I take to the Mill hotel. The pub quickly fills with friends, and then its off to the first venue of the day, the Lock Keeper.

Once there, I’m delighted to find an old friend Jon Knight, who I haven’t seen in ages. His wife Emma recently had a baby, and he’s made a special effort to come out, which I really appreciate.

Next up, Lee & Susan, my boss Tim and his lovely wife Lindsay (and she is lovely, I’m not just saying that because he’s the boss). Dan, Ralph & Aud and a few people from the walking group complete the scene.

A few young people (who despite my request, the landlord refuses to ask to leave, “I cant throw people out of the pub, just because their younger than you John. Are you 44 or 4 ?” comes his reply) are dressed in some kind of golfing clothing.

Lyndsay and Sean (both former “uni” people) explain that they are playing some sort of Pub golf, where the holes are pubs, and there are things like water traps, where you can’t go to the toilet.

As the ale starts to flow, the conversation gets going. The sad thing about this sort of thing is no matter how I try, I never get enough time to spend with everyone. I made a point of chatting to Dave and Jennifer, who I havent seen since my last birthday.

I pop over and find my boss (who can make friends with anyone), is engrossed in conversation with the Newton Heath crew. For reasons I cant remember, I was explaining about the time I had a graphite pool queue. I was trying to learn to play the game, so thought I would give myself the best possible chance of success, by buying (at no small expense) the best queue I could get.

The joke of course, was as soon as you were playing a stranger, and you produced this queue, all at the table went silent, waiting to see some feat of billiards, with the awe of a religious experience.

When this didn’t happen, and the balls bounced around like a pinball game, they usually erupted into laughter (no surprise that I gave the queue away and gave up pool).

We leave the Lock Keeper, and make for the Malborourough arms. Its literally spelt that way, as the result of a sign painting mistake some years ago.

Liverpool were playing, so the japery came to a halt for 90 minutes, as everyone watched the match.

Sadly Liverpool didn’t win. It was a tragedy for me, not because I support them, but because most of the people in the pub seemed to, and it brought the mood down a bit.

We got back to the task of having a good time, with 2 of my female friends from the walking group, encountering these 2 folicaly challenged hangers on (not to be confused with Brian at the back, a stalwart of the group).

At this point, some of my guests who’d travelled a distance, made for home. The rest of us went to the Bear and Billet, after a regrettable trip to Hickory’s (food will be a 2 hr wait !. As Tony would say, your having a Turkish aren’t you ?).

Heading back to the Mill, for a last drink, I get the guests who are sleeping over at my house, setup for the night then head out for a curry, which the lovely Brenda buys me as a Birthday present.

The day complete, I head home, relax and drift off to sleep. Another year older, and another fantastic birthday.

Thanks to everyone who came and made it even more special than usual. John

Although I don’t have a hearing problem specifically there are areas of my hearing that can be improved by correctly configured technology.

I know all of this, as I work for Phonak, part of the Sonova group, the Global market leader in hearing technology. One of the many benefits of working for Sonova, is that I get a preferential rate on hearing aids for myself and my family, should they be needed.

I was recently measured up, and I’m now the proud owner of 2 Ambra Nano hearing aids, on the Spice + platform. I don’t understand all the technology, but put simply, they are the most advanced hearing aids in the world (and capable of 200 million calculations per second).

You might wonder, why they need to do calculations ?.  Modern hearing aids are different than the ones from my grand parents generation. Firstly, the old hearing aids, just amplified everything.

The problem with that, is that if you have problems hearing sounds in a certain range, you need something that will sense and block-out the sound of clinking glasses in the pub, as well as emphasising the sound your having problems perceiving.

To do this, you need software that has been pre programmed with all sorts of data, so that it “knows” what to enhance, and what to block out (it can of course block sounds out, as its resident in your ear. The only things you’ll hear are the things that the technology allows through).

The other problem, is to do with direction. Hearing a noise like a door slamming, without some indication where its coming from is a nuisance and in some circumstances can be quite dangerous. Modern hearing aids have directional speakers, to give an indication of the direction of the sound.

The ones I have, fit completely inside my ear canal (I’ve photographed them next to a 5p, to give some idea of the size). In case you don’t know (and there’s no reason why you should) the red hearing aid, is always worn in the right ear.

My comments above, are my own personal opinions, and dont represent the views or opinions of Phonak or Sonova’s management or board of directors.

That said, I travel to work on the train each day, wearing my Phonak T Shirt, which I’m proud to wear (we don’t make land-mines, or cigarettes we make hearing aids, that make peoples lives better through technology. I also wear the hearing aids every day, and though I’m not a scientist or audiologist, they are amazing and have revolutionised my life.

That’s not the only astounding thing going on at work at the moment.

Here, my assistant Dan puts some rubbish in the skip, without being asked, or leaving it for me to do :).

I’m only joking, Dan is an asset to our department, in every way (and lends me money for lunch at Subway).

John

My Birthday Itinerary in Chester – Saturday the 5th of May 2012.

Update.

Well, only 7 days to go, before my birthday. I’m really looking forward to it this year.Loads of people are coming down, and the weather promises to be superb.

If you want to stay over, there are basically 3 options. Top end, the Mill Hotel, next to my house, which is lovely. Middle option, one of the B&B’s on Hoole Lane. Bottom option (but no less friendly) is my floor !.

Also, some of you have been asking what I’d like for a present, so I’ve taken the liberty of making up a list, which is taken from the treats section of this years Mindmap.

Socks	Some of the old Auntie Marjorie favourites are badly needed.
Glasses	I’ve replaced my wine glasses, but only have 3 tumblers. These would go great with the JD
Stool	For my breakfast bar. Doesn’t have to be this one, something similar would be fine.
Jack Daniels	Not being a spirits drinker by nature, I can make one of these last a whole year.
Hobo Handbook	Guide to Bushcraft and living by your own rules.
Boot bag	When walking I normally get a lift, and Tesco bags wear out.

I know some people (Steve) may think I’m being cheeky listing presents. Its not like that at all. I’ve had bad experiences buying things I thought were nice for family members, and later finding them in the loft unused.

The above list is just an attempt to avoid that, but far more important, is that my friends are around on my birthday and make merry !.

Now to the actual Itinerary:

Okay, we wont be travelling in any Barges, this is just a topical picture from a previous Birthday celebration.

The idea is to visit a few nice pubs in the historic city of Chester. There are 3 pubs and a warm-up to get us started. All of the pubs I’ve chosen do food, and I’ve even arranged for the pub were in around 5pm, to have a separate room, so those that wish, can watch the FA Cup.

If there is any confusion or anyone gets lost, just call my mobile and well work something out (number ends 617, if you don’t have it, send me an email).

upto 12:45 – The Mill hotel.

The actual event kicks off at 1pm, but between 12 lunchtime and then, ill be picking people up from the railway station and dropping them of at the Mill hotel. This should get things started, and if any of you are staying at my house and want to drop of bags etc, my house is next door.

1pm – The Lock Keeper

A painting mistake some years ago, lead the unusual name.  Very mellow pub, with wooden trastle tables and stools. Has a tv, for those wanting to watch the FA cup. Practically in the centre of town, and next door to Marks & Spencer, for those that need to nip out shopping.

6pm – Hickory’s

One of only a handful of authentic smoke barbecue restaurants in the country, it has a friendly bar, and views across the river Should be an ideal place to watch the sunset.

After this who knows. Perhaps we can go for a curry, and Dave L can get burned and we all eat for free 🙂

Last drink of the night, will probably be back at the Mill hotel.

Give me a shout if you have an questions, otherwise, see you all there.

John.

My new laminate floor is well under-way, in anticipation of my birthday next weekend. I know they cant speak, but I can tell that the fish are excited about it all (I haven’t seen them like this, since the last few levels of Modern Warfare 3).

Well, the weather today is terrible (the CDWG have cancelled today’s walk which is extremely unusual), but its reckoned to be sunny for my birthday next Saturday, so should look something like this.

Ill be writing up my birthday itinerary in the next few minutes, loads of people are already coming, but if you haven’t made up your mind yet, do try and attend.

John.