Category: Knowledge

Tips for Travellers: the first time I ever…

… walked along the new platform which connects the Nottingham tram to the railway station was the moment I realised that there are new things we could be doing and seeing every day. Not as a form of magnificent gesture, or in a transformative life changing impactful kind of way but in a small, momentary insignificant kind of way which might generate bigger changes somewhere up the butterfly cause and effect food chain of chaos and unpredictability.

The Walk along the platform opened up some small, momentary insights into how the trains entered and left the station, how St Mary’s Church is profiled against the broader sky scape and how impressive the new bridge is that supports the new tram tracks which point to a new future of travel down south, giving more passengers the opportunity for new views of the city and its byways and highways.

Are our days any better for the microscopic experience of new viewing and walking moments? I think they are if they mean we can see life from a marginally different position. We don’t have to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes – just a few steps in our own in a different direction to get a different view on how our lives might be different.

Tips for Travellers: Waverley Hotel, Workington

Hot spots, cold spots and soft spots.

What many hotel managements don’t get these days is that along with the 17 different types of eggs you can choose for your breakfast, what the travelling business person or giraffe needs from a hotel is a functioning, reliable, uncontested and free wifi as part of the package. It’s no longer good enough to pretend to have a network in your hotel if all you can see is the room next door and no access to the wider world, known these days dear hotelier, as The Internet.

For those hoteliers who are unaware of this amazing invention, the Internet is the phenomenon a lot of people rely on to get on with their daily jobs of earning a living, socialising, catching up with the news and pretty much everything else the lone traveller is inclined to need. These days, dear hotelier, a connection to the Internet is as vital as running water in the shower. And that means water running at the right temperature out of the right tap. We don’t mind too much those rooms whose mattresses have clearly supported heavier bodies in earlier days or whistling showers or those that rhythmically clunk their way into action, as long as there is finally action which you can rely on for the time it takes you to complete your ablutions. Much the same can be said of the need for the functioning wifi connection.

These days, dear hotelier, a functioning wifi is an essential, not a nice-to-have. The Waverley Hotel in Workington would be a sweet spot of restful accommodation and business functionality were it not for the constant searching for the hotspots of wifi connection, functioning bathroom taps and mattresses that don’t throw up their springs in horror every time you have to adjust your sleeping position.

The staff are cheery, friendly and helpful; the breakfast plentiful and fresh; the bedroom spacious enough and perfectly adequate for the odd night’s stay. But if, dear Hotelier, you want to welcome visitors for a second, third or fourth time, you need to invest in this hotel by stabilising its hot spots, doing away with its cold spots and radically overhauling its soft spots.

Tips for Travellers: Panna Kitchen and Canteen, Liverpool

Dreaming of musical reunions at the dreamy PANNA café.

PANNA Kitchen and Canteen is a chic café on Tithebarn Street in Liverpool. The kind of place where you might meet aspirational, visionary and sparky musicians of the future, it was setup by Slovakian business partners Peter and Ivana, and offers a refreshing relief to the myriad of chain coffee shops which populate the Liverpool commercial district. It was a new business start just a couple of years ago so it’s a real joy to see how a business which was just a business plan then has come to fruition.

The food is fresh, based on artisanal baguettes and salads, continental pastries and a unique in-house coffee blend which doesn’t leave you feeling wired after a couple of cups. The continental feel is tangible everywhere you look or sit – from the cool graphics, to the furniture to the whitewashed walls – you could be in Berlin, Bratislava or Vienna.

It’s crying out for a pop in lunch visit by by David Bowie, Brian Eno and Robert Fripp – 3 of the UK’s most influential musicians and artists. They haven’t collaborated properly together since Bowie’c iconic Heroes album in the late 70s (and I don’t count Lodger as it wasn’t a brilliant album) so that dream lunchtime date would be bound to rekindle their experimental and pioneering spirit in the best European tradition. PANNA would be a perfect venue for that rekindling, especially over their coffee and continental pastries.

Tips for Travellers: The Seacote Hotel, St Bees.

The Hotel that DIY Enthusiasts have been crying out for.

Cumbria affords the tourist a multitude of seldom seen pleasures. Whether it’s landscapes and seascapes, birds and butterflies, or trains and wind turbines it’s impossible for the visitor not go ‘wow’ at least three times a day.

These feats of genetic and human engineering bring a particular type of visitor to the county’s shores: the enthusiast. It’s impossible to spend a day out and about without tripping over a sweaty couple in the sand dunes who are stalking the lesser spotted horny rimmed owl, or overhearing earnest young women discussing the consequences of the recent disruption on the line between Rowrah and Cleator Moor due to a misplaced 40566 travelling in the wrong direction.

Enthusiasts from all over the world travel to delight upon the treasures of Cumbria and need a hotel which reflects their enthusiasms and the Seacote Hotel in St Bees near Whitehaven is such a hotel.

The Seacote caters for a particular type of enthusiast: the DIY Enthusiast. They have left no stone unturned, no unmade bed made up and no fixture permanently fitted to ensure that the DIY enthusiast who finds themselves on holiday, perhaps pining for a wobbly wardrobe to stabilise or a dripping tap to stop, has plenty to delight themselves with. Simultaneously allowing the DIY enthusiast to both rest from and fiddle with some unfinished DIY, the Seacote provides the perfect work life balance for those of us whose idea of heaven resembles spending the weekends wandering the aisles of B and Q in search of that holy grail, the missing whatsit which will fix the thingamy to the doodah.

The hotel’s policy of enthusiast encouragement is evident in every nook and cranny of the hotel and the management team have been enthusiastically thoughtful in catering for the range of every DIY obsession.

If you want an iron and ironing board, you go and collect it yourself from reception. If you want a functioning iron that doesn’t leak all over your suit, you fix it yourself and hope you’ve remembered the correct colour coding for the wires in the plug before you switch it back on.

Crockery is left uncleared away in the bar, encouraging you to tidy up after someone else; bath fittings are left incomplete, encouraging you to pick up a nearby screwdriver to tighten up those loose screws on the bathroom mirror; exit signs on the doors are left half attached, allowing you to finish off the attachment with aplomb, confident that you have added to future visitors’ enjoyment of the Seacote experience; the TVs are placed so awkwardly on the walls, you’re encouraged to pick up a hammer and relocate the TV yourself in the nearest waste paper basket.

So if you’re a DIY enthusiast, the Seacote Hotel is just for you. Just watch you don’t trip over the twitchers wrestling their way along the seashore on your way in.

When you land somewhere new, you have no history.

Or so you think.

You hear the words but can’t understand the sentences. The maps are intriguing but meaningless. The streets have names but no personality. There’s no hypertext in the environment: which means no links, no back story, no memories to reminisce about.

Or so you think.

When you’re new, you understand the importance of roots. You understand root systems in a way you didn’t until you’re plucked – or you pluck yourself – out of. Unrooted and ignorant, you understand, when you’re new, the significance of old.

Or so you think.

After a short time, you establish habits, you converse, you invent names for flowers in your back yard, and before you know it you have fledgling roots. Uncertain, tentative and unassuming but roots nevertheless. After a short time, you sit in a bar and you say to yourself: ‘I remember when…’ You meet someone and say ‘how was it when…?’ And at that moment you realise you now have history. You have previous.

Or so you think.

You realise that you had previous in this new place well before you physically arrived here. The new was part of your old but you didn’t hear it. The new was a shadow in your old, silent, sometimes shyly whispering, almost embarrassed to make itself known to you but also knowing one day that it would knock on your front door and say: ‘Hello. I’m your new. Remember me?’

And then you realise that your history is not the stuff of memories, but the incidental and accidental. The stuff of meaninglessness. You see the value of recognising the words but not understanding the sentences.

Give Us This Day: a Toast to Earnse Bay, Barrow in Furness.

Heaven on Earth? Not quite but not far off.

It’s a well kept secret in Barrow in Furness that Earnse Bay is not much short of heaven on earth. True, there are no angelic choirs, divine instructions from on high or bars which are open 24/7, but what it lacks for heavenly stereotypes it makes up for with sea, sky, coastline and windfarms. And the brooding Cumbrian mountains in the not so far off distance.

If you want tropical bathing: forget it. If you want warm, crystalline seas with more life under the surface than above it: forget it. If you want snorkelling, surfing and all the usual seaside paraphernalia of bingo halls, cheap nasty diners and violent games machines; don’t even bother.

But if you want the priceless liberation of wind on surf and stone, stars in the endless firmament and a brief moment of immortality  then Earnse Bay might just be your destination of choice. Just don’t tell anyone else. No-one wants this heaven to become someone else’s hell just yet.

My Lords, Ladies, Gentlemen and Members of the Jury, please raise a toast to Earnse Bay.

Give Us This Day Our Daily Toast: read all about toasting here.

Tips for Travellers: the Royal Hotel, Purfleet, Essex.

The Surprise of London Views without London Prices.

I’m visiting a conference in Essex where the organisers have, in referring delegates to the local corporate hotels, omitted to mention the Royal Hotel in Purfleet which presents itself as a delightful surprise in this part of urban Essex, some 25 minutes by train from the City of London.

It’s a surprise which is generated by its hard working and friendly staff who make you feel welcome the moment you step through the front door: they book you in quickly, organise a taxi for the next morning rapidly and serve a late night meal cheerfully without the usual sense of jobsworth that you often find in the corporates. The surprise is topped off with a glorious view of the River Thames and the City. These are indeed London views but without exorbitant London prices.

However, surprises always come with side effects. In the cold light of the morning, the Royal’s side effects took some of the shine off the night before. The decorative finish of the rooms leaves a lot to be desired in as much my room was decoratively completely unfinished; and a lack of wifi, overlong bedroom curtains, a mattress which feels like it had been liberated from a nearby skip and sticky, unwashed dining tables all gave an impression of a hotel that’s been thrown together at the cheapest possible price.

Whilst the staff continue to be cheerfully and authentically polite and friendly, you get the impression of them struggling against some long term under-investment on the premises. The Royal may well have non-London prices, but at the moment it also suffers from non-London based quality issues.

With a bit more tender loving care, the Royal could live up to its name and surprise everyone, including forgetful conference organisers.

Tips for Travellers: The Hot Mango, Ulverston, Cumbria.

Wondering whether we’re bit players in Alice in Wonderland.

As a friend asked on the way in, “what’s the likelihood of getting a hot mango in The Hot Mango?” Sadly, the answer is zero but this doesn’t stop The Hot Mango in Ulverston being a neat little town centre cafe with a menu which contradicts its physical size.

There’s a lot on offer and a huge blackboard to tell you all about it; substantial menus in confident plastic wallets and tables and chairs which are probably marginally too big for the space they are crammed into. But the big promise offered by the substantial menu is confidently delivered, the Big English Breakfast lives up to its name and the sense of living in an out-take of Alice in Wonderland is soon dispelled.

The Hot Mango – like the Cheshire Cat – may not actually exist but the feeling of lunch time satiety is real enough and our lunch time party left the premises feeling satisfied with ourselves and the food and pleased that we managed to avoid knocking over the furniture or falling asleep in outsize teapots.

Tips for Travellers: The King William IV Pub, Sneinton, Nottingham.

A (beer) case of mistaken identities.

The King William IV Public House  -also known as King Billy’s – also known as the Sneinton Snug – also known as Robin Hood’s ‘hood – is a charming atmospheric English pub with a myriad of identities as well as a fine selection of independent micro-ales and nano-beers.

Not only does the discerning drinker need to negotiate previously unheard of types of mead, he or she has to decipher the unattributed poetry in the toilets. Are we reading Becket? Einstein? Blyton? We cannot be too sure given the ambivalence of the atmosphere. Or it may be given the strength of the Jaipur IPA which clocks in at a deceptive 7.4% ABV. And very tasty it is too. Or was that the pork pie?

The pub banter only serves to add to the ambiguity:

“What happens when you mix black rat with white rat?”

You might think that given the hostelry’s proximity to a local biomedical research centre that you are over hearing an after works chat about state of the art genetic engineering practice.

“You get grey rat?”

“No, you get more black rat.  The taste of the black rat over powers the taste of the white rat so all you taste is black rat.”

Genetic engineering? Ale blending? Who knows. No-one seems to worry too much either given the soporific effect of the mixed race rat.

Given the parallel universe that is King Billy’s, it is only when wending our way up the hill back home when we realise that uphill is in fact downhill. At that point we know we have come across a fine local pub, albeit with identity problems.