400K+ Blog-Views

Thank you all so, so much…

My blog has breached

400,000

viewings.

Blimey & WoW!

%DDD

P.S. Being a tad OCD, I love the fact that I snapped the image of the count when it had attained a palindromic number, i.e. 400,004! %D

The George Hotel (Pub & Restaurant), Castletown, IOM: Review

I have saved my worst Castletown experience for last.

Had I not been with friends with an event-packed itinerary worked out for the whole of our three night/four day stay, I should have turned on my heels and fled - possibly screaming!

The George Hotel has to be the filthiest place I have ever had the misfortune to be accommodated in my entire life. More on this issue throughout. But first we were eventually introduced to the barman-receptionist as we guests stood grouped, huddled for mutual support, at the foot of oaken stairs. His welcome was no warmer than that given by Mrs. Danvers to the new Mrs. De Winter at Manderley. The staircase hand-rail was greasy and tacky to the touch. Unfortunately as there is no lift, and I am mobility-impaired, it was necessary for me to grip the hand-rail each and every time I dis/mounted the stairs. I took to using wet-wipes when descending and immediately washing my hands after ascending. However, something far worse than the hand-rail lurked on the stairs… the stair-carpet, shiny-smooth with trodden-in, ingrained food detritus and grease.

This from tripadvisor, One thing to say: Stair Carpet!!!, from February 2014 - where incidentally one can see genuine photographs of the gruesome covering:

"There is just no excuse for the state of the stair carpet which is by a very long way the worst I have EVER seen. How much is a new one???? How much dirt and grease can you work into a carpet? These guys are the champions."

I am too unstable to take snap-shots on stairs. But also there was a certain amount of gagging every time one looked at its hideousness.

It transpires the kitchens are on the first floor along with many of the guest rooms, including my own. However, to reach it one had to pass a raggedy ironing-board and a vacuum-cleaner that itself looked in need of a good wash.

The room was adequately appointed, although very basic and extremely dated. It was more the furnishings of a room rented by the hour, sort of seedy American motel, than a British bed & breakfast hotel. Even the towels (below) were the worst for wear (and tear!).

The ONLY redeeming feature was the view over Market Square taking in Castle Rushen. With its central position The George Hotel should be offering much better and it could charge higher rates too.

The bathroom was fine and superficially clean; but look too close and mould was to be found, especially all over the shower-head. I am afraid my shot is a tad blurry, but more images can be tracked down on tripadvisor. It was at this point I wish I had packed anti-bacterial spray in my luggage.

Our original plan had been to go out for dinner on the sunday evening we arrived, but alas the local eateries were closed. So pub-grub it was to be. I have since read other reports on tripadvisor that say the opposite of what I am about to write. I suspect it all comes down to who was cooking on any given occasion. I also ate my lunch at the pub on New Year's Day. Both the meals I had were fully consumed: they were tasty, well presented, not over oily/fatty and substantial. I know for a fact that the managers' son was the chef on these two occasions. In fact all four of the gang ordered at least one full meal and scoffed the lot.

I have also seen complaints about the bar-service. I partially agree: some of the staff were brusque even downright ignorant, but others were affable and helpful.

A comment from September 2013, Good Room but, almost says it all:

"As for breakfast - well it was great fun. Straight out of a BBC sitcom. Has to be seen to be believed but I wouldn't recommend it."

However, I have to expand upon this. Yes, it did feel like I was featuring in a candid-camera version of Fawlty Towers. The 1970's breakie, complete with tinned white grapefruit segments, gave me a pang of nostalgia for the days when landladies told the guests what they could or could not have. I am a coffee person first thing of a morning: I need it strong and lots of it. There was certainly no dearth, but it was fairly flavourless. However, the coffee served at the bar had some strength to it. To be fair, the cooked breakfasts were spot on. My poached eggs were perfect each morning: firm whites; runny yolks. I suspect with just a few minor alterations, breakfasts could be brought up to more contemporary standards.

On the other hand, the hotel part of the establishment needs a radical overhaul, as well as a thorough cleansing and, from my OCD perspective, disinfecting.

The George Hotel is not a place to stay for the fastidious, the immune-suppressed or the mentally unstable.

BlogCamp: Review

The level of concentration required for live-blogging BlogCamp last Saturday was enough to knock me for six over the past few days. (See previous five posts all of differing length!) My dyscognition flared with a vengeance; apart from my body succumbing to between twenty and twenty-two hours of sleep per twenty-four hours. This has meant my usual routine of keeping apprised of current events globally, nationally and amongst my relatives, friends and acquaintances via social media has also taken to the back-burner. I still feel completely shattered; but in a rare moment of cognitive clarity, I thought I had best blog before I faze out again!

[Image description: BlogCamp logo ©]

I thoroughly enjoyed the live-blogging aspect. It was great to convey instant impressions and perceptions. Although, I was unable to keep as strict an eye on my grammar and vocabulary as I would normally, due to time limitations and the need to publish asap (as soon as possible). Furthermore the established comfort of my shelf of dictionaries, grammars and thesauri was not readily available to me as at home. This forgoing of some aspects of control felt liberating. Perhaps another behemoth aspect of my OCD has been slain?

BlogCamp was not what I had expected. Partly this is because the announced agenda was supposedly to include usage and development of Google’s Google+, which did not come to pass, and partly because I, erroneously as it transpired, anticipated a blogging-for-beginners course. Unfortunately for the uninitiated, such as myself, the language of blogging is an impenetrable jargon and alas no glossary was provided. This site was mentioned, that app and t’other plug-in. A-huh: no idea what was being discussed for much of the time; it could have been quantum mechanics for all I knew!

Nonetheless, I did glean the odd gem of information and in due course I shall attempt to apply these to my own blog. I definitely think that video-blogging is the way to go for me. This is partly because visuals are one of the most sought-after types of information, and thus likely to increase traffic to the blog. However, from my perspective as a disabled person, I can imagine that speaking my ideas etc. might be an easier way to access my blog for blind and partially sighted folk. The only draw-back I potentially foresee, is the looming of my stutter/stammer. Although, if I learn how to edit my videos, I ought to be able to work around this impairment.

For someone sensitive to sound, the din of around one hundred womenfolk all attempting to make themselves heard was a veritable cacophony. For the most part I retreated to the relative calm of the venue hall whilst the hens clacked away in the communal zones.

Interestingly, the vast majority of bloggers in attendance were female. This could be due to the organisers predilection for baby, toddler and foodie blogs. Or perhaps this is true in general in the blogosphere? Still, I did chat to several lovely ladies, some of whom wish to remain in virtual contact.

I left BlogCamp at The Studio with a contented smile on my face and a sated stomach - what more could one hope for?

The Compassionate Photo-Art of Manuel Delgado

A couple of days ago, by happenstance, I came across a lovely photo by a Malagueño (a resident of Málaga in Andalusia) though originally from Cáceres (a mediæval city in Extremadura). His name is Manuel Delgado. But it is the photograph of his visage and mien that drew me in.

I have since written to this sensitive artist with my interpretation of the image:

"I love your profile photograph with the come-hither demeanour (well to my eye anyhow!). I cannot decide whether the pillow iterates this position or contrariwise it adds a sensitive perspective of a more vulnerable self. The red of the fabric of your attire, the peach of the pillow and the orange tones of your skin all underscore the passionate. You do not state the colour of your eyes. Initially I thought they were black, but on a closer look they appear hazel. Whilst your mouth is definitely not forming a smile, I suspect those lips do so more than do not. I really like this photo."

Some artists can be a tad prickly about interpreting their work. Personally, I write poetry, it does not bother me what interpretation the reader places on the poem. It means what it does to me. But like a child, it has its own personality and must be allowed the freedom to express itself. Thankfully Manuel took no umbrage whatsoever at my comments.

The portrait had a link to Manuel's photographic website (Manuel Delgado) where copies of his works can be purchased. I am slightly hesitant to add below some of his œuvre, because Manuel wants to see which images I have chosen - no pressure then!

The first is from a series entitled "Banderas" ("Flags") (#27):

This initially made me think of the UN flag; but it is also reminiscent of imperial banners with eagles and such like upon them. Some of the flags look almost recognisable; others are more abstract: but they fascinate nonetheless. Personally, methinks the collection should be viewed as a complete corps to extract full meaning and significance. So why not take a good gander (scrutinise them)?

Next photo is from a compelling (for me) series taken of just one spot on a pavement, "Pasos en la acera" (Steps):

Naturally, this completely appeals to my OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder). However, additionally, it speaks to me of notions of time & space, transience and the ephemeral; and, more specifically, reminded me about humanity's recent appearance in geological/cosmological time. Of course, to you they may hint at something entirely different!

My next choices are from a series called "La Habitación Secreta" or "The Secret Room" (Room). The images include nudity and subjects that some may take offence at. If so, cease reading this article at this point.

What I find interesting about these images is that they have caught men in quotidian activities that are rarely photographed. Manuel, however, demonstrates an honesty and frankness in this series that recounts a complete narrative without cloying romanticism nor Hollywood glitz nor pornographic brashness. I suspect he has a compassion almost tenderness for his subjects. This is rare as many photographers aim for the photojournalistic dispassion that merely observes rather than interacts with its subject.

And finally, just to demonstrate that the artist is not afraid of colour, here is one from his series "Trabajo en la calle" or "Work on the street" (Workers), Estela the florist:

If one has been to Málaga, one will be all too aware of the wonderful array of blooms available from the street vendors, particularly in the old historic part of the city.

I hope Manuel approves of my choices. I hope the reader's interest has been sufficiently piqued that s/he will want to visit Manuel's web gallery. %)