Blondie - A Bombshell at the Villa

The quality of performers that we have had playing locally has improved immensely over the last few years and over the last 13 months or so, I personally have seen Spandau Ballet, The Feeling, Calvin Harris, Jools Holland with both Alison Moyet and Mark Almond, Imelda May, Elton John and last night Blondie.

Although the very first album I bought was 'Parallel Lines' which I believe was their second album, I really wasn't sure what to expect because that was 33 years ago and rumour had it that the reviews of the current tour had been mixed to say the least.

When the chum for whom I bought tickets dreamed wistfully, of staring at the stage and remembering his unrequited love of yesteryear, I brought him, back to earth somewhat harshly by reminding him that the object of our teenage lust had been in her thirties the first around but it has to be said that Debbie Harry did look remarkably well for a lady reputedly in her mid sixties.

In honesty, I had been more worried about the voice, especially as she eschewed backing singers, used by Roger Daltry to help him reach the high notes at the Peel Bay Festival in 2007. Obviously, it wasn't quite as strong and clean as it was in the seventies and eighties but she was still able to give what I thought was a very creditable performance.

The night began with a few old favourites, before the band moved on to some of their newer material in the middle section and then wound the Royal Hall up for the big crescendo. The musicians themselves were excellent, with Debbie Harry's main collaborator, Chris Stein still present as well as Clem Burke, the original drummer. They have been joined by an extremely good guitarist, Tommy Kessler, keyboard player, Matt Katz-Bohen and their bassist since 1997, Leigh Fox.

The best performers tend to make their audience believe that this night is special to them while DH informed us that the Triskellion t-shirt wearing Chris Stein had been to the Island 40 years previously and though it was her first visit that they'd enjoyed playing the tourist earlier in the day.

They didn't quite play all the tunes that I'd have like to have heard, understandably for the likes of album track 11:55 but less so their first hit from Parallel Lines, 'Picture This' and I don't particularly like the way that all bands tend to drag out their encore songs for ages when others remain unplayed but these were minor gripes about what I felt was a superlative evening's entertainment.

If they are coming anywhere near you, make sure you don't miss them.

Sponsored Scbubies

After yesterday's blatant advertisement blog regarding our intention to hold The Welbeck 2011 prices into 2012 (okay I know I'm at it again,) today we're back to the Parish Walk.

Our team, walking comprising Jane Foster, the second lady, Niamh Goddard, the famous Bacchas hockey player(well famous to anyone who's been listening to Manx Radio for the last decade and maybe more anyway) Irene and me on behalf of the Neo Natal unit at Nobles hospital was very close to the head of the field in 5th place and the first mixed team (though it has to be mentioned that the overall winners were the all girl,'Are We There Yet?)

Yesterday, Irene, Lucy, Harry and I attended S.C.B.U., meeting, Manager, Paul McCann to hand over the money raised by our half of the team and it gives me great pleasure to announce that with huge thanks to our customers, staff and friends, we raised £490.00and added another few bob from the Hotel, to bring the total to £550.00.


N.B. Jane & Niamh did far better than us and raised £300 and £415 respectively. Well done to them!
Jane is photographed here.


Below is the link to Lucy's e-mail which Stu Peter's read out on his Talking Heads programme regarding 'Home Birth' and in particular her experience of her time in Jane Crookall. It is the last item on the show, about five minutes from the
http://www.manxradio.com/audiovault/HeadsFRI-1.mp3 (Sorry I can't work out the proper linky dufer, so you'll have to copy and paste.

No Price Increase for 2012

After much boardroom debate (ok more like a chat with the wife, Irene over a cup of coffee,) we have decided to hold our 2011 prices for 2012 with the exception of TT which is still very reasonable and we forgot to increase last year.

The modern way would seem to be to inflate your tariffs to an incredible level and then throw in 'Huge Discounts!' so everyone feels like they've snagged an 'Amazing bargain!'

Indeed on a recent episode of Alan Sugar's 'Apprentice,' one of the hopeful teams was admonished for paying the 'Rate Card' for an advertisement, 'Nobody pays the 'Rate Card.' Well what's the point in having one then!

At the Welbeck, we feel that our rooms are priced to sell but we have decided to forgo the annual rise in the face of increasing costs in seemingly all areas of our business in the hope of remaining buoyant in these ever more difficult economic days.

It is essential to re-invest as we always have since my Mum & Dad bought the Welbeck in 1978, so fingers crossed that we have made a decision that will enable us to sustain this policy.

And there ends the political broadcast for the Welbeck Revolutionary Conservative Party

I Haven't Learnt My Own Lesson Yet!

Apart from the fact that the Island is a different country, with different culture and even a different language albeit not so widely spoken these days, one of the most difficult concepts for our visitors to wrap their heads around is Isle of Man weather.

The paragraph above was written by me on 6th April this year.

On Sunday morning, despite the good weather forecast not quite coming to fruition in Douglas, I performed my 'Granddad Duties' by taking young Harry for a walk in his pram as we were struggling to get him to settle, having been overnight babysitters.

It worked a treat and he was soon well away, dreaming of food as usual, judging by his constant suckling even in his sleep. As I wandered along North Quay, I reckoned Granddad deserved a treat, having risen for the morning feed on my day off and I stopped off at MASH, the café run by Jock Waddington's Parish Walk support maestro, Dave Dentith, intending to sit and watch the world go by over a coffee.

Unfortunately, I'd been beaten to the draw by my old chum, Gary Blackburn and his family and before I'd even had chance to obtain my drink, Harry had noticed the lack of motion and was announcing to the world that his evil grandfather had stopped pushing him and abandoned him on the pavement (within my view, I hasten to add, as I know Lucy reads my blogs.)

The trouble with North Quay these days and also the Promenade is that they're too smooth and hence not conducive to soothing a screaming baby, so it wasn't until I hit the flagstones underneath the Villa Colonnade that I was able to calm Harry again.

Well, that was the morning gone but we were looking forward to a lovely afternoon in the sunshine, in the south of the Island and perhaps would try the new facilities at Bradda Glen. We were all dressed up (clean shorts and tee-shirt rather than best bib and tucker) when the unheralded drizzle that had been falling gently for the last half an hour or so turn into proper rain. We looked at each other with draining enthusiasm, when all of a sudden the heavens deposited a job lot of stair rods.

That did it for us and we did an about face, Irene back to her ironing and I to catch up on some writing I should have already done whilst keeping a beady eye on the Tour de France (though it wasn't a day for our Manx Missile,) whilst simultaneously juggling Silverstone and the cricket with the TV bat.

I think it was a little bit of payback for the schadenfreude that I'd felt on Senior Race Day when for once it was pouring down in Ramsey (our friends in the north are forever boasting about their superior weather, so I'd felt entitled to that) and we had lovely sunshine.

Anyway, you've probably guessed by now that while the precipitation plus was absolutely bouncing in Douglas, just down the road past the Quarterbridge and indeed throughout the rest of the Isle of Man, they were basking under that big yellow thing and if they are all to be believed (I'm convinced it is all a big practical joke involving the whole population, just to make me feel paranoid) it hardly rained anywhere but here.

In my next blog, I'll explain how to win the Parish Walk. Or perhaps that's another of my own lessons, I've yet to learn?

What a Clown!

(Picture thanks to Murray Lambden)

Sorry about the latest 'Blog Break' I we had a little bit of a hectic time ahead of the Scottish Widows Parish Walk , which to the uninitiated amongst you is the small matter of a friendly walking race around the seventeen parishes of the Island. A total of 1756 hardy souls entered the 85 mile stroll this year (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parish_Walk.)

So the lack of words in this particular internet address afterwards was in some way due to my disappointment of once again falling short of my ambition of winning it, this time by an even bigger distance than usual.

However, Irene did particularly well to soldier on for 75 miles despite not having trained since before the birth of our grandson, over two months earlier and I did eventually finish the race in 125th place. Therefore, I think that along with Jane Foster who was second placed lady and Niamh Goddard, our team, Scbubies raised a decent total in aid of the Neo Natal Unit at Nobles Hospital but I'll confirm all that after we've totted everything up.

Also staying at the Hotel were Dave Fereday, who broke the over 70s record and Ollie Browne who was using the event for a warm up for the 100 miles race which he competed in last weekend. Unfortunately, he didn't quite manage to complete that one but hopefully, he'll be back next year for another crack here.

Quite a lot of people have been wondering what happened to me and why was I not up there contesting the higher placings. To be truthful, I am not quite sure. Despite my training and preparation all proceeding to plan and feeling hugely confident that I could break my Parish duck, I started to fade at Colby only about 16 or 17 miles in. Although I'd been flying up the hills in training, I had no strength in my legs on the ascent up Ballakillowey and struggled there on in.

At the bottom of Glen Rushen, a sniper shot me in both hamstrings. I felt that was a little unfair of them if my competitors were reduced to taking such actions.

However, close inspection revealed no blood and I realised for the first time in a race, my muscles had just cramped. Luckily, the spirit of the Parish shone through and Richard Spencely's back-up and a lady whose identity I'm not sure of produced some diorhalyte and after a little effing and jeffing (thanks and apologies to those who were present) I was back on the road, albeit in an ever increasingly distant 5th place.

With the encouragement of my dentist and one man support team, Nigel Armstrong, I carried on through Peel but increasingly found it difficult to maintain my technique and it wasn't long before I was also passed by Robbie Callister and by the time I'd reached Kirk Michael, I'd really had enough.

The crew in fancy dress at the Mitre Hotel gave me a huge amount of stick when I stopped to make a phone call to Irene to ask whether she wanted me to wait for her but they were having loads of fun. My instinct was to join them but Nigel persuaded me to carry on to Ballaugh. The legs were certainly not performing well but the brain was still intact and I realised that the pub in the aforementioned village wasn't on the course and I insisted that Nigel drove me back to Michael.

So there I stopped and had a pint with the appropriately dressed clowns. I felt that I was in the right company, having dropped out of the sharp end of the race. Then I had a sleep in the back of the car until Irene caught me up.

Well done for their amazing performances to Jock Waddington, Vinny Lynch, Richard Gerrard and Richard Spencely and also to all the other finishers.

I'll finish the rest of the lap in a later post.