Wisdom (and Wilson)

(Title courtesy of auto correct. A recurring theme/annoyance of tonight)

You asked for wisdom. I can only hope to deliver; with my mind currently running on several glasses of wine, Pringles and some chicken nuggets which I swear weren't cooked through.

So what would you like to know? My in-depth knowledge of BioShock? My recipe for a Robster (not tricky anyway)?  My deepest secrets?

HAH. Thought you had me there? Ooh, "Uptown Funk" just came on.

(Woo!) 

Because yes, I'm distracted. Because yes, I'm drunk. 6th glass of wine now. Fruity. Flat. Powerful. Typically, completely, essentially, quintessentially wine. These people who have adjectives for booze. It'll get you drunk. Priorities. Focus not on the "imperial implications of a modern vintage" and just decide you suddenly want to DANCE. I always dance when drunk. Me, a bottle of rum and Come and Get Your Love are the best embarrassment mix up since dads learnt how to dance at weddings.

Better than drama at a young primary school age. Ooh, I'm a shepherd in the nativity. Because I know how to wear a headscarf? Out ducking standing.

(I've decided not to swear for the previous 10 seconds)

Fuck.

Moving on.

Hey, you know what would be fun? If I came up with something creative. My writing recently has gone quiet. My reading, however, has been spectacular. "Here", "The Wrong Place" and "The Art of Guardians of the Galaxy." (Did you really think I changed that much?) 

So imagine, if you will, two people of extraordinary omnipresence. They not only see everything, they have already seen it. One wears a long coat and a top hat: the other has 8 mechanical arms. In between them stands me. They go out and live their lives, and I tell their stories because they cannot. I create their lives because they do not exist without me.

So here is my wisdom, Landmine. As requested. (No benefit leaflet. NO BISCUITS)

I am the father of these two men. They live and love only through me. Which is why we need more authors in the world. When the world goes mad and people don't make sense, we make our own. We make our own roles models. Our reasons for living, and for other people to keep carrying on.

We make heroes. People to look up to.   

And some people, like me, need them.

"I have two alter egos, both of which are cooler than me." (Facebook, 1 of 7 facts, 2015.) and they are one of the main reasons I like trekking on (besides the long-coat-striding everywhere). Because their stories just aren't done yet.

SERIOUS BIT OVER

Why is modern music so shit? Discuss.

In the words of animated head of Al Gore:

"PEACE OUT, Y'ALL"

R.

=]
(Can I please have a few point of success for posting this ramble using my iPhone, alone)

Newquay, 2015

Starring:
1. Myself
2. Dan (driver, host of this event)
3. Dan's friend, "Chapman" (first name Tom, often mistakenly referred to by me as 'Ty' because I'm stupid)
4. Dan's other friend, Ty (also invited, but declined)

Saturday 25th April
When it comes to starting a holiday, there's hardly ever a lot of choice. You get up stupidly early, or you don't. That's it. We left, by choice of Dan, at 6:30am. Give him his credit, we didn't hit any traffic during our 3 and a half hour drive. But when your alarm clock has '6' in it, you know it's going to be rough.

Saying that, on the way down, Chapman was the one to fall asleep. Which was impressive, given at that moment, Dan and I had decided to enter a two-man karaoke production of Gorillaz Clint Eastwood. That was one of many recurring themes of our holiday - in the car, I was provider of music. God help us all, I know.

Anyway, during the journey, I phoned ahead to our hotel to find our check in time was 1pm. We arrived in Newquay around 10am and we spent our first bit of time there like men. We bought alcohol, and we gambled. Dan managed to win £5 on a slot machine. As did I, but I then hit 'transfer' instead of 'collect' and lost it all again. Genuis. And there were 2p machines. They are hilariously pointless. You know you're not going to carry around a handful of 2ps for the rest of the day, you know it, the guy running the place knows it, it's all going to go back into the machine it came out. (With one exception, coming up later but this narrative shall be linear). I did win a Despicable Me keying. If I'd won 7 more, I could have traded in for a stuffed minion toy, but...just no.

So between the time of arriving and checking in, we milled around Newquay for a bit, taking in the shops and various restaurants. Of course, we stopped for our first pasty from a place called 'Rowes' and I just had to text my Cornish friend Megan about it. It wasn't particularly hot, but it was good. But we still had time to kill and Dan wanted his own nostalgia moment, so we got back in the car and headed for Hollywell Bay, a small amusement park a little way outside Newquay. It is fairly young-age-based (hence the nostalgia part for Dan), but did include a decent game of mini golf, and some go-karting. Now that was fun. Leaving aside the moment where I looked monumentally stupid because I put my seatbelt on incorrectly, we had so much fun out on the track, we paid to do it twice. It also helped that it started raining. Yes, we got soaked, but as Dan kept mentioning, 'we were happy with the drifting'.

Now looking like drowned rats, we decided it was the perfect time to check into the hotel. Dan drove us back and on arrival we were given our keys, for rooms 27, 28 and 30. At random, I took 30 and brother I picked the longest straw. We all went to do the typical 'room-sweep' in our separate mini abodes, but upon entering my room I was presented by this quite startling view.


Now THAT^, for the attention of all hotels
everywhere, is a "sea view".

With the trees and endless sea, it was almost like being somewhere abroad. In fact it was so good, when Dan came in to visit we sat down to partake in the very grown up, very British past time of just...sitting. And looking at the scenery. (Thus, my room became our central base whenever it was time to pre-drink/drink in general)
After that, we sampled what Trebarwith hotel had to offer. While Chapman had another nap, Dan and I gave the indoor pool a go, then the sauna - new and interesting experience for me - then tidied ourselves up and had a game of snooker and ping pong. (Wiff waff, to avid QI fans like Dan)

Before the evening could begin, I had to find myself a bottle opener. So while Chapman and Dan enjoyed some snooker, I wandered off into town to get some money out and a new utensil. Ended up having to buy a can opener. Living the dream, I was.
(I've also just looked around my room, no idea where that utensil went when I got home and unpacked. Somewhere, in my bedroom, is a can opener. God I love living bizarre.)

We'd decided to start the evening at "Senor Dick's", a Mexican restaurant offering dreams for we lovers of delicacies like burritos and fajitas. (or, as the menu put it, FAH-HEE-TAS). I enjoyed some excellent chicken FAH-HEE-TAS, the filling for which was delivered in a sizzling black dish. As we ate, the restaurant's name did lead to A LOT of jokes, on the night and throughout the holiday. Mostly centred around "eating some dick", "some tasty dicks right there" and so forth. They did some mighty fine cocktails as well (har har) which is where the night out started. We opted for a pub crawl, so after that it was a Wetherspoons (adventurous, I know), then a club called 'Walkabout' which was far too noisy. (For old men like Dan and myself) Then another, equally loud Wetherspoons. And then a pub called 'Sailors' which funnily enough, both Dan and myself had been individually recommended - in my case, by my sister and brother-in-law who live in Plymouth.
Without any doubt, Sailors became not just my favourite bar in Newquay, but ever. Good drinks, great atmosphere, my kind of music - I kid you not, they played the Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack. The first time Come and Get Your Love comes on, my tune, and I can't dance to it 'cos I'm with the wrong company! Ah well. No offence, you two, if you ending up reading this!
Sailors also led to another, rather unfortunate, running joke. For you see, working in the gent's toilets that night was a very friendly black gentlemen. He gave out hand soap, hand towels and, depending on how well you tipped, gum, cologne and, once in my case, a rap song. All three of us liked him immensely, so much so that it led to the birth of a new metaphor "going to pay the black man" to mean going to the toilet. I liked him so much I went to the loo even when I didn't need to. Gave him £2, got some very nice cologne (and the rap) out of it. 

Besides that, in my drunken state I ended up quoting Pulp Fiction (which became a personal recurring theme for the holiday) and learnt that Chapman doesn't like small talk. I also decided to throw a glass bottle over the side of some nice decking they had outside because, and I quote, "I'd finished with it." We rounded off the night with some more cocktails and headed back to the hotel. Along the way, we encountered a very nice busker with a guitar who played a rather charming number called 'The Wank Song'. He told us stories of all the inappropriate places he'd "relieved" himself (by verse three I'd creased up laughing) and we gave him all the change we hadn't given to the bathroom attendant at Sailors. Didn't come to much!

Trebarwith Hotel's night porter was very charming when we arrived back, at 1am-ish. Opened the door with no fuss or comment. Let us right on in, where we went to bed and ended our first day on holiday.

Sunday 26th April
Ohh, the morning after. The Mexican food and alcohol in our bellies had stirred up something fierce within. It certainly didn't help in my case. My room had an amazing sea view, but incredibly small toilet-slash-cupboard, effectively. Couldn't sit on the toilet without burning your leg on the heated towel rack. Yes, I have the scar to prove it.
In short, we were rather looking forward to our inclusive breakfast. I had bacon, beans, fried mushrooms, tomato, sausage and about three cups of tea. There's no 100% hangover cure, but it doesn't get much better than that.

And what did we decide would be best for our day after the night before? Why visit a cider farm, of course!
No, to be fair, it was an excellent suggestion on Dan's part. It's easily one of the best places I've been and I plan to go again one day. Healey's Cyder Farm. Yes, that's how they spell it. But it's a rustic old farm out in the country, really good surroundings and BEST OF ALL, the free samples. Oh, the free samples. There is a room filled with bottles to buy and along the back wall, a very long bench lined with various ciders to try. We were served by a friendly chap who gave us a mini tankard each and talked us through the various types and flavours. Dan, bless him, the designated driver, couldn't have quite as many. Chapman and I had everything. Apple cider, berry cider, elderflower cider, cider infused with rum, cider infused with whisky, Rattler, Scrumpy, Healey Gold, mixed berry wine and strawberry wine (BY FAR my favourite). Once you've tried them all, the full sized bottles are in the room, waiting to be bought. I came away with a beautiful bottle of strawberry wine and some winter spiced cider, a glass of which I'm enjoying right now.
Delicious.
I honestly urge to give Healey's a go if you get the chance.  http://thecornishcyderfarm.co.uk/
It was so brilliant, I honestly have a new dream of travelling the country to taste all the various ciders and keep a journal of some kind. But, that's a new post for a later time.

After our light marinating in Cornwall's best alcohols, we decided to look into doing some archery at Hendra Holiday Park. (We'd raided the leaflet section in the hotel earlier in the day, you see.) As it turned out, we could only book it for the next day, but we stuck around to play some bowling. Not proper bowling, but on miniature lanes, with pins on strings and bowling balls that you cupped in your hand, rather than with the finger holes. I think Dan won that one - I was more pre-occupied with the sound effects it made if you missed a shot. Sounded like a drunk leprechaun laughing at you.

Seeing as we were coming back, we didn't stick around so instead returned to the hotel and went to explore the Trebarwith hotel's adjoining beach. Earlier in the day, Chapman and Dan had bought some flip-flops in town. At the beach, they quickly worked towards losing them in the waves. In my typical odd/alternative style, I'd opted for holidaying in my caterpillar boots, which actually were a dream when I realised they were more or less waterproof. And they came in handy when I participated in one classic, favourite past time of mine - rock climbing. No harnesses, no safety ropes. Just a massive block of land in the middle of the beach, of which I needed to reach the top. There is something about rock climbing that I find simply brilliant. Perhaps the danger to it, or the rather primal act. Either way, it certainly wasn't the last time I did it on our holiday.

After that, like the right 'hilarious and original' guys we are, we just had to draw a giant cock and balls in the sand. I got us ready as a team; Dan did the head, Chapman the shaft and myself, the balls. And of course as soon as I said '"Go", I promptly forgot what role I was playing and ended up doing the head' at the other end, which had to be transformed into another ball when I suddenly realised what Dan was doing. So a rather deformed phallus stayed on the beach, at least until the tide returned. Dan said he later saw some people on a cliff above, pointing and laughing at our work. Personally, I felt like a small, sad homage to the Top Gear trio.
Turns out we couldn't see it from our hotel rooms anyway!

After Dan and I took another trip to the pool and sauna, and Chapman had another nap, it was time for dinner. We'd found an American-style steakhouse called The Bullpitt earlier in the day and so opted for that. In four words, it was "very meaty and delicious". Also gave me a chance to try two new, and exquisite, ciders. The menu offered the chance to try 'brisket', the only thing I knew about it was The Big Bang Theory's mentions of it. What it is, is beef cooked so tender it literally falls apart if your fork so much as looks at it. For a set price you get a choice of two meats and two sides, so I opted for a steak, brisket, corn on the cob and chips. Dan fell in love with brisket, there's no other way to put it, so I gifted him some of mine. I can't deny, it and the sauce it came with was divine. But we'd had a starter, and I had to finish my steak. Might be a personal guy thing. But if I'm given a steak, I must finish it. He also gave me some of his chicken in return, which was damn good.
And in a joke not quite as good as Senor Dick's, each time Dan mentioned The Bullpitt after our visit, I always heard 'the ball pit' and wondered what the good glorious hell he was on about.

As we'd had such a good night in Sailors, we opted for a quieter night, drinking in the hotel. There I enjoyed yet more cider, and tried to keep awake as we three sank slowly deeper and deeper into the lounge sofas. We went to bed soon after, though not before some shuffling through the Urban Dictionary. We had been discussing some rather odd/disturbing sexual phrases, but my random non-sex-related favourite?
Busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.
Ah, how we laughed.

Monday 27th April
In another of Dan's requests for nostalgia, we spent most of the day in Perranporth; another costal town not far from Newquay, where Dan had stayed before at a younger age. The beaches and cliff faces it offered weren't just good, they were exceptional.

In the middle of what you could call 'the main beach bit' (effectively the bit you're on as soon as you touch sand, any further out and you have to walk a fair way) there was a small rock island (above) with a Cornish flag on top, which we had to reach. There were also a few jellyfish dotted around, one of which Chapman did poke. Didn't sting him, though, I believe. We looked around a few shops, including a cool African-style shop, full of wood carvings like masks and such, which reminded me of Aku Aku from Crash Bandicoot. Dan did consider get a wooden-carved cock-shaped bottle-holder for his parents, or another with a bottle opener on it, but decided against it.
The rest of our time there involved a long beach walk, and climbing some very heavy-going sand dunes. Hard to get anywhere where each footstep sinks a few inches into very soft, very steep, sand.

After that, we had to head off as it was time for archery! Back to Hendra, and another quick game of mini-bowling as we arrived a little early. Not to brag, but I thrashed the pair of them this time. My 155 to their 42 and 68. (I know, it's not like me to victory-gloat. But when do I win at bowling?!)
Now, archery was a lot of fun. I was, well, not terrible. I'll cling to my bowling victory earlier in the day, though, put it that way. I was more pre-occupied with getting the Skyrim reference in. You know, "I used to be an adventurer like you, then I took an arrow in the knee." Tricky, when a white/black/blue/red/yellow target doesn't have knees. However! We had paid a little extra to have some shots on what we were told would be "3D targets." Earlier in the day, Dan and I had suggested scarecrows and stuff like that, whereas Chapman randomly suggested a dinosaur and how we laughed. How we laughed a lot more, when our archery instructor then did bring out a foam dinosaur to shoot at! There was also a dice, a zombie's head and torso, three small pumpkin heads and some straw bags. Our instructor gave us a scoring system, something like 800 if you hit the dinosaur in the eye, etc.

"I used to be a dinosaur like you,
then I took an arrow in the knee."

Me, I was focused on the knee, wouldn't shut up about getting it in the knee. (So much so I think I 'weirded' out our instructor. Which would be a shame, he was nice, I liked him.) He did end up saying "Alright, we'll let Rob have his...shot at the knee..."
5 arrows. 5 chances.
And I got him, right on the last one.1000points to me, easy (in my mind). Chapman also got a cracking shot on the zombie, directly through the tip of the nose.
We came away happy, elated, having had a damn good time. (Although not 100%, in my case. I didn't admit this to other two, in fact I'm surprised I managed to keep it quiet, it hurt so much. TWICE, upon releasing the arrow and by some means I don't know how, the string pinged back and caught me on the nipple. TWICE. The same nipple, too)

We returned to Newquay and spent some more time in town after that. There was a superb Ben and Jerry's ice-cream shop, where you could either buy the ice-cream or have it turned into a milkshake, Shakeaway style. I combined 'Baked Alaska' and...something with strawberries, it was very good. What made the trip there, though, was the shop attendant kept accidentally swearing. We didn't mind, and we were the only ones in there, so there were no worries of offending anyone. But she'd swear, get really apologetic and we just laughed, enjoying some damn fine milkshakes.
After that, we found another casino/arcade place up by Sailors. But this one was different and by far my favourite of the trip, because it had...wait for it...a classic Pac-Man machine, 20p a go. I spent A LOT of time at that while Chapman and Dan got on with their own thing. I kept thinking I'd get Repetitive Strain Injury from playing, I've no idea just how much time passed with me standing there, but when we came to leave, it turned out to be quite a while. But before that, I must discuss Dan's big win. He'd found another, different Pac-Man related machine, a 2p one that mixed slots with a digital game as well. Finer details aside, he won a considerable plastic-pot-full of 2ps and so went to get them exchanged. Then the arcade owner led us to the back room. Chapman made jokes about Dan getting his legs broken, while I fought back the urge to laugh. Turned out he'd won about £5.40 - which he was dead chuffed with, no doubt about it - but the way we'd been led away from everything, it was like he'd have to accept a cheque or something.

Still, fun over, we returned to the hotel for a while. We sat outside, overlooking the adjoining beach (the sand-cock washed away, by now). I broke into my bottle of strawberry wine and ended up drinking the whole thing because it was GOOD. Also led to a rather funny side story. But first, a different one.
I like to think we gained a bit of a reputation at the hotel in our short stay, we were around quite a lot, having fun, I think the staff recognised us. We also seemed to be some of the youngest people there, excluding kids there with parents. Anyway, around about 5pm, a...what would we call him? Attendant? Porter?...well, a member of staff came to see us while we were drinking outside. As he approached, I think we three shared the same thought: "Ah, damn, it's about the alcohol isn't it?" But no. The guy came up to us and asked if Dan or I planned to use the sauna at all later on - as we had requested to use it twice already during our stay - but we said we probably wouldn't. When we asked why, he said he just thought he'd warn us, as apparently a 60yr old German woman had been in there the day before, from about 6pm onwards, and hadn't been wearing an awful lot. "Just thought I'd warn you." We thought it was just fantastic, thanked him a lot, had a good laugh about it. Funnily enough, I'd brought my notebook - which I'm referring to right now - outside with me to document the day. As the hotel guy walked off, Dan said something to me like "that's got to go in your book!"

My other funny story, only minutes later, regarding the (now empty) bottle of strawberry wine. Dan and Chapman went back to their rooms, while I snuck out into town, with the intention of getting another bottle. Probably didn't help I'd drunk the whole thing, but my mind was going "I must get another one! I text Mum I'd bring a bottle back, I must have one!" At the cider farm, I'd bought it because I thought I'd never see it again, turns out there were bottles in EVERY tourist-based shop in town. However, by this point in the day, they were all shut. "You can get another bottle tomorrow, it'll be fine, NO I CAN'T! IT'S THE LAST BOTTLE EVER, I MUST GET ONE!" Seriously, you want to see determination, get me hammered. I eventually found a liquor shop and from outside I could see a bottle on a shelf, through the open doorway. I kid you not, my arm had raised to pick it up before I had even entered the shop. The till worker probably thought I was...well, drunk. Probably seen it all before, and worse. I'd just looked like I'd failed at using the Force to move it.

Embarrassing story aside! We went for Greek cuisine that night. I wasn't massively blown away by it, each night of dinner had gone in descending order of preference (Senor Dick's was excellent, and to be fair, BullPitt was a very close second). One thing I did learn: Halloumi. Is. AMAZING. If it's that good in a Greek restaurant in England, I want the real thing in Greece. It's like when Mum and I had proper bruschetta in a restaurant in Rome, you cannot beat food in its country of conception.

Then that night in the hotel bar, I tried and loved some excellent strawberry Pimms, while Dan and I returned to our college-favourite card game "Slam". We only played one game, which I won. GOD my hand hurt. I've obviously lost my touch.

Tuesday 28th April
So came another excellent breakfast, so came another day in Perrenporth. Now, I can't say for certain why we decided to go back, but can say for certain, I'm glad we did. The tide had gone out, so we went for a long walk down the beach and started exploring in caves. Hardly any actually went anywhere, one small cave lead to a collection of ropes at the far end. Another, and this will always remain with me, contained a smashed boat, complete with decaying fishing gear and crates. All three of us stood there, taking pictures (quite badly, in the dark, it must be said) quietly taking it in. I loved that moment in particular, it was like a proper boys-only adventure. I honestly felt like 10yrs old again. It was, quite simply, fantastic.
One other cave that will stick with me, was where Dan tried his hand at being Spiderman. From the cave entrance, it split into two directions, one dry, one wet. I first went left, dry way, and couldn't find anything, so we decided to go right. It was quite narrow, but me in my boots just walked through the water, no problems at all, and Chapman took his shoes off. Dan, however, was wearing Converse and would neither get them wet, nor remove them. So he stuck his arms and legs out, pushed against each wall, and edged along. All the while egged on with me singing Spiderman, Spiderman, does whatever... etc. When we did get past the wet bit, into the cave, there wasn't much to see. It was a decent size and merited the use of my iPhone light. That made me laugh; exploring by the light of a mobile phone. Kids of the modern age, eh?

What came next, I won't bore you with. It transpired that a spring on Dan's car had come loose - we did notice a rattling noise every so often as we were going around Cornwall. Rather than attempt the 3 and a half hour journey back the next day, with 1 of 4 wheels looking iffy, Dan drove to a garage to have it fixed. While that was being done, we walked into the nearby town of Redruth. Which was memorable for being utterly not memorable at all. Apart from one street I happened to spot which was LINED with 'Vote Labour' signs. On this side of the election, that worked out well, huh?

Anyway. That little tangent over, we returned to town in Newquay. I bought Stephen King's new book Mr Mercedes for the ride home (which I have since finished, excellent, as ever) and then we visited the Pac-Man arcade again. While the other two gambled, I returned to the classic Pac-Man arcade game. Where, after many, many, many 20ps and the occasional quid, I got the new highest score of 152,170. Oh yeah. Can't say I'm not an achiever! Might well have been beaten already by now, but I did it, and I know I did. It's good enough for me!

As we'd had such a good time there on the first night, we rounded off the Tuesday, and the holiday really, with Senor Dick's again - cue Dan sending his mother some rather iffy "eating dicks again" texts - and then another trip to Sailors. We enjoyed some rather excellent cocktails, Chapman especially. We shared a few sips of each other's drinks, and I'll be honest I'm a tad jealous of what he had in our final round.
There was no toilet attendant this time, which was a bit of a shame. We still used that metaphor though, as we had done throughout the holiday. Seeing as all we ordered were complicated cocktails, we did give the barmaid serving us a pretty good tip as well. Got to be gentlemen sometimes, eh? Even if you're drinking a "Pornstar Martini".......

That's more or less it for my notes on the holiday. I had brought my PS Vita with me, so ended up packing my stuff away with Futurama episode "A Tale of Two Santas" playing from the Vita.

The final note in my book?

"bit drunk atm, tbh"

Says it all for a lad's holidays, doesn't it?

Peace out =]