Langkawi – Christmas in Paradise

This was where we would spend Christmas. Wonderful! After a stroll along the beach, where we watched all sorts of scary water-sports going on, a sort of beach club and some fisherman loitering by their boats offering excursions out to sea, we headed for the bar. It just seemed like the right thing to do. We were, after all, on holiday. Alan Jackson came to mind as it was a little before, actually quite a lot before, five in the afternoon.

It was idyllic. It was positioned in the shade of a straw roofed cabana. However much you dream of a beach bar you will never conjure up anything better than this. We had clearly landed on a planet, surrounded by our own types. This, I must point out, is not what made this place so welcoming, it just happened to be the case. Mainly, though, the people were of a certain age, ours, our own type! That’s what made it good. Christmas music played calmly in the background, decorations were slung from the ceiling and, I know it’s a leap of faith, you could just imagine the white sand was snow; at least I think it was white?

We met many different folk on this first afternoon but, over the few days we were staying, we always seemed to bump into the same two couples. Firstly, there was an Australian pair, and you mustn’t blame them for that, they can’t help it, from Bedfordale in Western Australia, literally the next suburb to where my brother lives in Perth, Chris and Julie.

The other pair, equally as nice, were Brian and Linda; she was a girl, albeit of around our age, from near Huddersfield in West Yorkshire and the bloke was from Falkirk, I think, in Scotland, with a turn of phrase that made Billy Connolly seem like a choirboy! I realise that this is probably another one of my idiosyncrasies, but I always feel that profanities, when delivered with a Scottish accent, always possess a cultural eloquence unmatched anywhere else in the UK. Keep it up, Brian. Sorry, Linda! They now reside in France.

They were terrific drinking buddies, and raconteurs of the highest quality. We had a great time. We never ventured out to the other restaurants on the strip, but spent every night in the shelter of the cabana. The food was much and varied, prepared by first class chefs and cooks. There was a choice of Asian and European cuisine. Every single one of the dishes we tried was extremely tasty.

The next day was always going to be a take it easy sort of a day. Up at leisure, after listening to the morning call for prayer, Malaysia is primarily Islam in its beliefs, and into the same cabana for breakfast. It was a buffet with a cooked course as well. The staff, among the friendliest I have ever encountered, offered to collect my needs from the buffet. No need to ask. That always puts pluses in the credit column, a white-cane mark on its own.

I can’t actually believe we did this next bit, I must check to see if I have any German heritage. We placed towels on the sun-loungers right outside our little bungalow. We then headed to the lobby, booked a massage for later that day, and a personalised escorted excursion for boxing day; must get cash for the excursion, have got by on cards alone so far.

Until very recently, I have not been a fan of having a massage. It has always seemed like there is something a little seedy, about women as young as our own daughters, probably even younger now, as our daughters are getting on a bit, applying oils and what-not to an old man. That was until Jane informed me that we could have couples’ massages. I can never wait for the next one now! They are, on the whole, incredibly relaxing; mind you, they know how to apply pain as well, not sure my joints can take too much of that! A good way to while away an hour or so waiting for the bar to open. No, not really; just kidding!

I never, ever thought I would be caught laying on a lounger, on, or at least near, a beach. I have never understood going on holiday, wasting time on an overcrowded strand, when there are battlegrounds, museums, castles and the like to visit. Then, there is the sand, it manages to get everywhere; don’t know why people enjoy this? Having said that, I did find lying in the shade, listening to audio books, music and radio, wonderfully relaxing, on this one occasion. Every now and again a waiter would drop by, and place a glass of iced water, infused with various tropical fruits, on the table between us. Glorious!

It was about two in the arvo, as the antipodeans say, when Aussie Chris rocked up and started on the amber nectar. Julie had been booked in for an afternoon’s worth of treatments. He suggested I join him. I am well aware that I am pretty lightweight when it comes to boozing, so declined his gracious offer, saying I didn’t drink until it was gone five in the evening...

Hunstanton Promenade Parkrun

This was a new one. I was meant to meet up with Nik, my VI guide from last week, again for this event. Unfortunately, I have done something to my leg and it doesn’t work properly. I decided to walk this week.

The course is run entirely on grass, well-tended to be fair, except for a few rabbit-holes, which were marked with white, I think, poles, so we didn’t trip over them. It is fairly flat but, I guess, on a windy day, it might prove a little challenging, right on top of the cliffs as it is. The free-parking was easy, right next to the course, on Cliff Parade, near the lighthouse.

I completed the first lap, there are three-and-a-third altogether, with Jane. She then trotted off on her own, achieving another personal best, leaving me to find my own way. Don’t worry, she didn’t suddenly abandon me, it was all part of our cunning plan. I did, as I was going around, get reminded of my golfing days, ending up in the rough too many times. Apart from the occasional bench, which seemed to have popped up out of the ground, I never noticed them when accompanied, the course was obstacle-free.

The Marshalls were brilliant, especially the man at the lighthouse end, giving, clear and precise, spoken instructions. Apart from wandering off into the rough, I only made one error. On completing the third lap (remember, I try and latch onto other participants, and follow them), I ended up about to enter the finishing funnel. Whoops! When people started to shout out their congratulations I realised I had gone wrong. I soon corrected myself, found my way back onto the track, and finished the last bit. If the on course Marshall had not intervened, at the point where the final lap was curtailed, I think I would have continued onto the golf course.

Thank you to Tania and her team, for allowing me to take part and for their incredible support. It is very humbling when other runners recognise me from other Parkruns: Lucy from Holkham, Eric from Sandringham, and so on.

A shoutout to the Salad Bowl Cafe, which offers a 5% discount to Parkrunners, just show your barcode, for breakfast. We didn’t avail ourselves of the offer this time around, but it sounds like my kind of salad bar.

Next time, we will be at Whitstable in Kent, where I am due to be escorted by another VI Guide.

White Cane Ratings*
Car Park: very good; on nearby road; free - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯(4)
Welcome: very good; friendly - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯(4)
Atmosphere: good - 🦯 🦯 🦯(3)
Course: very good; entirely of grass, a few obstacles - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯(4)
Marshalling: very good - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯(4)
*These ratings are how the event suits a blind person, and are my opinion only; they are not scientific. Whatever happens no-one must be put off by me. The best way to learn about something is try it for yourself.