Love - With a Capital S

Welcome to a chilly and rainy South Manchester where the dreary temperature of 6°C doesn’t even begin to compete with the 33°C of Malaysia and 24°C of Hong Kong.

Yes – I am back from a two week jaunt to the Far East where we spent ten days in Malaysia (Kuala Lumpur and Penang) and four days in Hong Kong. The jet lag is just about over now but the weather in Manchester will take some time to get used to again. 

Let’s wade gently back into the land of bloggery with some silly questions from Sunday Stealing.  

Things I Love Beginning with S 

1. Spain. 

One of the reasons I started to try to learn Spanish is because I love Spain. 

I first visited the country back in the mid 1980’s when myself and two mates travelled there on Interrail from Paris. We visited San Sebastian in the north, Vigo in the west before heading (via Portugal) to Sevilla, Madrid and Barcelona. Perhaps the first word I learned in Spanish was cerveza (beer). Since then I have been back countless times, visiting most areas of this magnificent land. I’ve also been to the Balearic Islands (Majorca, Ibiza and Menorca) and the Canary Islands (Tenerife, Gran Canaria and Lanzarote). 

We are going back in May to Nerja on the south coast and I am really looking forward to it. My Spanish, although pretty poor, is getting better and I quite enjoy stumbling through sentences when talking to Spanish people. When they speak back though it is a struggle. I soldier on. 

2. Saturday

When I was working, Saturday was the best day of the week because I could have a lie in and enjoy a day that didn’t have work at all (apart form the odd exception of course). Saturday is typically a great day for sport (football, rugby and cricket) and I can relax and have fun. One of my old pals, who retired before I did, told me: “every day is like Saturday, Dave”. And now that I am retired – he’s right – well sort of. 

It is still a special day because Mrs PM still works and it is the best day for us to get together and do something interesting. 

3. Sea

I live on an island and no place here is too far away from the sea. Manchester is 40 to 50 miles away from the nearest coast so if I want I can easily get there. Mrs PM comes from Blackpool which is a big holiday resort on the west coast of England and I get to see the sea whenever we go to visit her parents. 

However, I like to sit watching the sea in sunnier places than north west England (mainly because it can be quite cold here, even in the summer). Whenever we go on a beach holiday I like to just sit there and contemplate life as I listen to the gentle sea or ocean lapping against the beach. It is very mindful and relaxing, especially as the sun goes down.

 4. Star Trek

I am a geek and a lot of the people I used to work with are also geeks. On one trip to Muscat in Oman, I was sitting in the hotel bar with such a person. The conversation was one of the most nerdy that I have ever been involved in. It wouldn’t have been out of place in The Big Bang Theory.

PM: What are you talking about? There is no way that Star Wars is better than Star Trek!

Geek 2: Are you insane? Star Wars is far more successful than Star Trek. People who like Star Trek are weird!

PM: Weird? Bloody hell – weirdness is a sad movie that had Jar Jar Binks in it! 

Geek 2: Okay that was a mistake. But what about Wesley Crusher? And NEELIX! If you think they are great characters you have no taste. Well that’s obvious because you prefer Star Trek.

And so it went on. And I am sure people started staring at us, rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.

And worse, nobody won the argument because secretly we BOTH like Star Wars and Star Trek. 

I’ve loved Star Trek since the original series and, while not everything is good (let me mention Neelix and Wesley Crusher again – I agree with Geek 2 about those two terrible characters), the best bits of Star Trek are far better. 

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn and Star Trek: First Contact are far superior than any Star Wars movie in my opinion. 

Talking of the Big Bang Theory, I love this scene – and yes I know it involve Wil Wheaton (Wesley Crusher) but I have long since forgiven him (mainly because of this scene!):

I have to say that I have never been to a science fiction convention and if I did go, I wouldn’t get dressed up. Nor do I ever plan to learn Klingon:

Qapla’Ha’qu’ ghajbogh wanI’vam.

I can use Google translate!

5. Summer

As I sit here in a rainy city in north west England in the middle of winter, my positive mind is already searching for summer. I had a taste of it in Malaysia and Hong Kong and I can’t wait for May to come along. I live in England so we can’t guarantee that we will have a good summer. I do know, however, that I can and will jet off to Europe to enjoy the warm weather, the sunshine and long days. Last year in the UK we were lucky because we had four or five heatwaves here, which meant that I could enjoy all of those benefits from the comfort of my own home. 

Summer is only a few months away and I can’t wait for it. 

6. Sunday Stealing, of course!

It’s fun and silly!

Left My Soul There Down By The Sea

When I need to unwind and relax I conjure up a picture in my mind.

I see myself relaxing on a beach, lying there in the warm sun as it rises or sets. Next to me is Mrs PM, holding my hand and leaning her head against my shoulder. The waves are gently lapping against shore.

The image at the start of this post was taken in Port Douglas, Australia on the morning of our arrival as the sun rose over the Coral Sea and, although it was almost eight years ago, I still see it every single day, both at work and at home.

Why?

Because the image is my background picture on my work laptop, my home laptop, my desktop and my Nexus 7.

When I feel the need to escape from the stresses of everyday life, I find that by staring at that image, I can momentarily immerse myself into the tranquillity of the memory invoked by the photograph.

Ultimately I would like to retire to the seaside, whether it be a cold and breezy British shore or a warm and relaxing southern European beach somewhere.

I’ve even strolled along the promenade at Blackpool on Boxing Day with a biting, icy wind blowing all of the cobwebs from my addled mind; the cold wind and the sound of waves crashing on the shore brings a clarity to my mind – and peace.

I am happiest when I am by the sea – but not in the sea.

I am quite happy to watch the waves, smell the sea air and let the wind carry me away to a restful place in my mind. The thought of stepping into the sea summons an altogether different feeling – one of fear.

I’m not such a scaredy cat that I won’t actually set foot in the water (although Australia is the exception on that front); I just don’t like the things in it.

First of all, I’m not a huge fan of sand. Some people love walking barefoot on the beach and letting the wet sand cling to their feet.

I hate it. Sand gets everywhere. I hate the feeling of it in between my toes and under my toenails. The feeling makes my teeth itch. When I walk on a beach I have to wear sandals and even though they protect me from most of the sand, I still find myself having to wash the sand off my feet as I leave.

And I have another confession, dear reader. I hate seaweed. I hate the feel of it and the look of it. It all stems from an episode in my childhood. I was around five years old and sitting watching television, safely in my own living room with my parents at my side.

Dr Who was on.

I loved Dr Who – I still do – but this particular story scared the shit out of me. It was called Fury From The Deep and basically featured monsters made out of seaweed that terrorised a North Sea gas refinery.

Fast forward a couple of years and I found myself standing in the sea in Brighton, screaming blue murder while standing in about five inches of sea water.

My dad rushed to my aid and asked what was wrong. I pointed down to my feet and he simply laughed – but saved me all the same. My legs had become entangled with seaweed and in my immature and childlike imagination, the seaweed monsters had come to get me.

Even now, when I swim in the sea, I find myself shuddering in utter disgust if seaweed touches me or drifts to the vicinity of where I am swimming.

I love waves as long as they are small. Big waves are bad.

On a holiday to San Sebastian in Spain, I decided to go for a swim. I noticed that the waves were pretty big but I thought I was a strong enough swimmer to cope with them. I waded out into the sea and started swimming away from the shore. The waves were getting quite big so I stopped swimming and decided to turn back. To my horror I found that I was out of my depth and my feet couldn’t quite touch the bottom.

I decided to tread water and let the waves carry me back ashore. It worked – sort of.

I was floating in the water and noticed a young woman about twenty feet ahead of me.

And then I saw it.

A huge wave was approaching fast.

The woman pushed herself up to try to ride the wave. She failed. It hit her full on and I saw her silhouette in the water as it washed over her and bowled her over completely. I saw feet where her head should have been and as the wave reared up in front of me like a giant leviathan, only one two thoughts entered my head:

        “I hope there isn’t any seaweed in that wave."

    “OH SHIT!!!!”

The wave hit me and I kind of lost track of time for a few seconds. All I remember is being overwhelmed by the sound of water smashing against my head. I had no sense of where I was and had no idea what had happened. I was like a marionette and powerless to fight back against the unknown forces assailing me.

When the ordeal was over, just a few seconds later, I found myself lying on the beach having been washed ashore. My swimming trunks had opted to give a few people a great view of my arse. Thankfully I was face down and I managed to pull up my trunks before too many people reeled back in horror.

Sadly that was when I realised my trunks were full of sand – and seaweed.

I staggered out of the water like a demented seaweed monster from Dr Who, much to the delight of my mates who had seen the entire thing from the comfort of their sunbeds.

The final horror of the sea are the creatures that live within. Billy Connolly once said that we are not ever supposed to be in the sea but are too stupid to take the hint; the hint being that creatures in the sea bite us, sting us and eat us.

I refused to go snorkelling at the Great Barrier Reef because of box jellyfish, irukandji and sharks.

I have been snorkelling in Barbados and the Bahamas but on one occasion I almost added my contribution to existing marine excrement when a huge grey fish swan past me.

Of course it was just a harmless fish but to me, viewing it underwater and without my glasses, I thought it was Jaws ready to have Plastic Mancunian for lunch.

In conclusion, I want to be beside the seaside – not in the sea. My ultimate plan is to spend my time strolling by a beach somewhere in the world, watching the sun rise or set and enjoying the beauty and tranquillity of nature.

Here are a couple of relaxing songs that remind me of the peace, beauty and tranquillity of the sea.

And my dearest hope is that the writers of Fury From The Deep didn’t base the story on real life events.

It Only Takes A Minute

Last week I arrived back home from a holiday in Bodrum, Turkey.

In Turkey I was happy.

In Turkey I was relaxed.

On Wednesday I went to work. I logged in and opened my emails and found approximately one gazillion of the bloody things all of which were fighting each other for my attention.

It took a minute for me to succumb to stress. It took another minute for the anger bug to bite me on the arse.

It was as if I hadn’t been away at all. Sitting there at my desk I found myself pining for the sunshine, begging for the beach and missing those lazy days by the pool.

One day I shall dwell on why my job pisses me off but for this post, I shall endeavour to be positive and reminisce about our holiday.

I had never been to Turkey before so I was really excited about visiting a new country. I would have preferred to have travelled around a little and experienced the less commercial aspects of the country but both Mrs PM and I were in desperate need of a lot of rest and relaxation. The lure of the tourist traps, beaches, swimming pools and sunshine were too much to bear.

I won’t bore you with the daily details of our holiday but I will emphasize some of the more memorable experiences (well as memorable as a week long package holiday by the sea can allow).

Here are some of the highlights:

(1) Our hotel was full of Turks so we were spared the usual British home from home experience that a lot of my compatriots feel they need to make their holiday special. Barely a word of English was spoken, allowing us to get a small taste of being in a foreign land. The Turkish holiday makers were keen to have fun though and the pool area was a hive of activity with Turkish holiday reps dragging people up to perform silly dances, sing silly songs and generally have fun. We watched with amusement as the reps performed a Turkish song similar to Agadoo with a comparable silly dance. Mrs PM was tempted to join in but resisted at the last minute.

(2) It was hot – very hot – bordering on being too hot. Our hotel was at the top of a hill and on the first day we embarked on a massive walk exploring the local town before climbing the hill back to our hotel when we had had enough. We ended up slightly lost and the hill was extremely steep. By the time we found our way to the hotel we were both almost dead. Mrs PM almost threw up and I flopped onto a chair in the hotel bar, barely able to say “water”. We sat there for twenty minutes sipping water supplied by a very kind barman with sweat pouring off our bodies. We decided that we would take taxis from that point on.

(3) Turkey is the first Muslim country I have visited and at one point we were enjoying the sunset over Bodrum Harbour when the signal for prayers came from the local mosque. I was fascinated by this. Turkey seems to be quite relaxed when it comes to religion and while there might be a few devout Muslims, most people carried on with their business.

(4) The food was brilliant. I had to try a Donner Kebab and it arrived, sizzling on a hotplate. It was wonderful. Turks love their food and I was very impressed with the cuisine generally. There wasn’t a single meal that I didn’t enjoy.

(5) Turkish men are very friendly and very forward, particularly with women. On the first night we were enticed into an open air bar and within five minutes a waiter had demonstrated to me how Turkish men greet each other. He kissed me on each cheek (he needed a shave) and within seconds he was holding Mrs PM’s hands and hugging her. He offered free drinks to the “young, romantic and sexy couple”. Mrs PM loved the attention but I wondered whether he was very short sighted, describing me as “sexy”. We were offered free shooters in this bar and a few others too. Thankfully we were fairly sensible about it and only had a mild hangover the next day (not a good idea in the heat). Most restaurants and bars we visited were similar with the waiters and owners offering us various things “on the house” (like Apple Tea, Raki and even a small fish in one place). Wonderful hospitality.

(6) A couple of the friendly waiters were quite surprised to discover that I was forty eight years old. One guy in particular said I looked about thirty two. What a charmer he was.

(7) We embarked upon a boat trip that was extremely good fun. There was “free beer” available but it was so weak that I stuck to coke. The food, however, was very good and we were able to plunge off the boot into the Aegean Sea to cool down. The highlight was watching the Turkish crew performing their traditional Turkish dancing on the top deck of the boat while other passing boats watched with a mixture of fascination and enjoyment. A very nice day.

Our original plan had been to see some of the local sights, particularly places like Ephesus. Sadly after the first day we decided that it was simply too hot to spend six hours travelling to the place and another three hours walking around. In a sense, I’m glad for two reasons.

First, it gave me a chance to really relax, spending days by the pool, reading, listening to music and swimming.

Second, it gives us an excuse to go back. The next time we go, our destination will be somewhere closer to Ephesus or Izmir. It also makes sense to go when it is a little cooler, perhaps in May or September.

I am quite excited at the prospect of visiting Istanbul also – perhaps that’s yet another trip.

To summarise, Turkey is a great place. It is relatively cheap, very friendly, as excellent food and there is a lot to see and do.

I would recommend it.

Now then, I have to make inroads into this huge heap of jobs that have piled up.

If you can read the future, dear reader, and are willing to share next week’s lottery numbers with me I would be most grateful. In the meantime I shall post a few photos on my photo blog when I get round to it.

Still, every cloud has a silver lining - we're off to Ibiza in a few weeks - and I can't wait!

Invasion of the Jellyfish

I may never dip my toe into the sea again. I’ve just read an article that has turned my legs to jelly, which is quite apt really because it is all about jellyfish.

To be fair, I’ve always been a little nervous about exposing my naked flesh to the great oceans of the world or more accurately the creatures that reside within those vast expanses of brine. We all know that there are dangers there. I mean, who hasn’t seen “Jaws”? But at least you get a warning with sharks. If you are on the beach in a warm climate the chances are that the telltale dorsal fin will warn you of a shark’s approach.

Jellyfish, on the other hand are another story.

I first became aware of these odd beasts on a holiday in the north of England as a child; washed up on the shore was a strange creature with tentacles that looked like an alien creature from hell. “Don’t touch it,” yelled my Dad. “It will sting!”

Well that was enough for me. I have a fear of any creature that will bite or sting. I was off the beach before you could yell “Jellyfish”, whipping up a major sandstorm in my wake.

My next encounter with a jellyfish, or should I say a fluther of jellyfish, was on a ferry between Vila Real de Santo António in Portugal and Ayamonte in Spain. I was a student, travelling around Europe with two friends and we were taking the early morning ferry. The sun was peeping over the horizon, the air was cool and comfortable and I was at peace. My two friends were staring into space and I decided to observe the tranquil sea. However, it wasn’t tranquil at all. Swarming around the boat, like a pulsating nightmare of rubber were literally thousands of huge jellyfish. I had never seen anything like it. The worst thing about the creatures were their horrifically long tentacles. There were so many that if I had been crazy enough and completely lost my mind, I felt I could have slipped over the side of the boat and walked to Spain on their backs. They were big and they terrified me. Later on our holiday, we visited a couple of places in Spain next to the coast and I swear that I refused to set foot in the water; I had to be persuaded to even walk on the beach in case one of the monsters washed up onto the sand.

Three years ago, I was lucky enough to go to Australia. On my very first day in that beautiful country, I wandered onto the beach and saw this:




The jellyfish I saw in England was small; the ones in Portugal and Spain were big. The one represented by this sign, a box jellyfish, looked huge. In fact the sign made it look more like a giant octopus. I suppose, in many ways, it is good that the creature is so large because at least you can see it coming have time to get over your blind panic before swimming away like a creature possessed.

This venomous monster looks like this:



The box jellyfish can often be found on or near to beaches that the human population of Australia are attracted to. Thankfully they only appear in the Northern Australian seas. It is named because of its box shaped head – I think if I’d named it I would have called it something like the Killer Jellyfish.

I did some research on this monster and discovered that it weighs up to 2 kg and has up to 15 tentacles on each corner that can be up to 15m in length. Each tentacle can have up to 5000 stinging cells. Why in God’s name would a creature need 75000 stinging cells? It makes me wonder whether there is another much larger creature out the in the Australian seas that feeds on box jellyfish. Why else would it need to defend itself so vigorously?

You may think that a beast such as this can only move slowly. Wrong! It can propel itself along at speeds of up to 4 knots (about 5 mph). Avoiding it is therefore not easy. So much for me thinking that I could outswim it in a blind panic.

But it gets far worse than that. You cannot survive being stung unless the venom is treated immediately. The pain is excruciating and the likelihood is that if you are stung, you will almost certainly go into shock and drown before you reach the shore. The treatment is to pour vinegar over the stings as soon as possible. The warning sign came equipped with a bottle of vinegar and instructions on what to do. You would have to be insane to step into the water on your own. In fact if, in a fit of madness, I decided to chance it, I would insist that there were at least twenty life guards swimming around me; not to rescue me, but to get in the way of any box jellyfish that happened to be in the vicinity.

But there is something worse in the seas of Australia and unlike its cousin, the box jellyfish, this creature is tiny – so much so that you can’t see it. I am talking about the Irukandji. This demonic little beast is only 2cm in diameter. It has a single tentacle on each of the four corners of the bell but at 50mm in length they do not help to make this tiny creature visible. Because of its diminutive stature, it can evade any barriers constructed to keep out box jellyfish by simply swimming over under or through them.

If that wasn’t enough, the Irukandji is almost transparent, making it difficult to see in daylight should it be washed ashore. In the sea, the damned thing is practically invisible. It looks like this (not that it will help being so microscopic):



Now, if you thought that this insignificant creature was harmless you would be totally wrong. The sting itself is not actually that painful. The problems occur about half an hour afterwards. All of a sudden, the victim begins to have a severe headache and backache accompanied by shooting pains in their muscles chest and abdomen. As the venom takes hold, the victim suffers from extreme nausea and vomiting. In extreme cases the patient suffers pulmonary oedema or fluid on the lungs, which is fatal if left untreated.

The symptoms I have just described were afflicting bathers in the seas off Cairns before the little terror was actually discovered. Back in 1964, a doctor called Jack Barnes speculated that a jellyfish was responsible for these symptoms, called Irukandji syndrome and named initially after a tribe of who lived in the Cairns area. So how did he go about finding the culprit? He spent hours in the water with a wet suit searching for new jellyfish. By chance, one of the little blighters swam past his mask so he caught it. And what did he do to prove that his little captive was responsible for this horrible ailment? He stung himself with it! Yes that’s right – the idiot actually allowed the little beast to sting him. As if that weren’t enough he felt he needed a better test so he stung his own son and also a surf life saver who happened to be with them. If I had been with him at the time, I would have hit the guy for even suggesting that I allow a jellyfish to sting me. Maybe it was a macho thing; three big manly Australians can take a little itty bitty sting from a tiny marine creature.

Well the inevitable happened and all three of them ended up in hospital. Many people called it dedication. I call it gross stupidity! For his efforts Dr Barnes’ reward was to have the jellyfish named after him – carukia barnesi is the official Latin name. I bet the life saver was a bit pissed off about that!

So, back to the article that rekindled my fear of jellyfish. According to the article, the US government has warned that armies of killer jellyfish are marauding around our beautiful oceans. What’s so bad about that I hear you say, safely, sitting in your comfy chair reading this post? Well these brutes are reported to weigh up to a quarter of a ton and some of them are the size of fridges. A QUARTER OF A TON!!! THE SIZE OF A FRIDGE!!!!

Not only have they invaded the seas, they are actually damaging ships. I can imagine the captain of a boat peering over the side and saying

“Look at that – some swine has dumped a fridge in the sea. Wait a minute – that’s no fridge. It’s got tentacles – RED ALERT! GET US OUT OF HERE!!!”

Well - maybe not.

Now I don’t know about you but all of this is a fantastic reason never ever to dip my big toe into the sea again, not even when a wave gently washes up on the sandy shore. There may not be a fridge-sized leviathan in the water, but there may be a tiny little invisible irukandji waiting to kill me.

The sea is their domain. Leave them alone, I say. And if you must head to the beach, don’t forget your vinegar and personal army of paramedics and life guards.