Preparation, they say, is everything. So knowing a little about the very special island of Madeira is certainly recommended.
Destinations popular with older travellers are often thought to be of the more slow-paced, tranquil variety, specialising in good food, easily accessible historic sites and high-quality accommodation. It is surprising then, when your plane heads for Madeira’s precariously positioned coastal airport (supported by huge concrete stilts and jutting out over the sea) that everything on this beautiful island seems to be clinging to its volcanic sides. Your first impression might well be that it appears to be a most inaccessible place to go on holiday; but first impressions are likely to change considerably after a few days of exploration….
Madeira does have excellent accommodation, ranging from traditional pension-style hotels in Funchal’s centre – to large, ultra-modern hotels and retirement complexes outside the capital and along the coast. And mouth-watering seafood is served in the island’s many good restaurants. But perhaps most importantly, the island’s road infrastructure is superb, meaning that exploring this stunning island is easy – and most enjoyable. Plenty of taxis, good bus services, excellent car-hire options and of course many mini-bus tours - ensure that you’ll be able to access the many beauty spots of this little island, covering an area of just 57km by 22km in total.
Despite being small, this autonomous Portuguese region offers some breath-taking views. Enjoy a tour to the island’s highest point, Pico Ruivo – so high in fact that it juts through the clouds - rising to 1862 metres above sea-level. Or choose to visit the wonderful coastal waterfalls, which cascade down the vegetation-covered cliff faces. Another popular spot is the Cabo Girao – the second highest cliff-face in the world, offering unforgettable views across the vast Atlantic Ocean.
But perhaps Madeira’s most popular attractions are its famous Levadas – small canals which carry water from the mountains down to the island’s towns. Excellent (if narrow) pathways are to be found alongside these canals, giving visitors the chance to see some truly memorable mountain scenery. There are a range of Levada walks to choose from depending on how energetic you’re feeling; visitors can opt for a short, gentle walk, or enjoy a more challenging trek high up into the misty vegetation – where you’ll see vibrant wild flowers and pretty waterfalls, along with fantastic views over deep, tree-covered gorges.
In the evenings, Funchal’s many restaurants provide the main focus, catering for tourists of various nationalities. The service is invariably excellent, and fish is naturally a very popular choice - particularly good in eateries along the capital’s main coastal drag, where visitors can enjoy pleasant ocean views as they dine. But evenings in Funchal – and indeed a cross the island – are often quiet affairs, as the island’s mature holidaymakers retire to their hotels fairly early.
One of the main reasons Madeira is less popular with younger tourists is the lack of beaches on the island – but a short ferry crossing to the nearby island of Porto Santo gives visitors the chance to enjoy a fantastic, 8km-long sandy beach, together with a pleasant journey on a comfortable ferry. There are also many other sight-seeing and fishing boat trips available, offering visitors the opportunity to view Madeira’s dramatic coast from the ocean.
Although Madeira has become known as a holiday hot-spot for retired holidaymakers, this unique island offers some surprisingly energetic activities for all ages. While visitors can choose to lie back and enjoy the sun, great food and overall top-quality service – to get the most out of this fascinating little island, visitors would be well advised to bring some good walking shoes - and discover Madeira’s many surprises for themselves.
© 2008 Craig Hindmarsh
Monday, 28 July 2008
Friday, 25 July 2008
Explore Postbridge: in the ancient heart of Devon
Discover the tiny village of Postbridge, set deep in one of the wildest landscapes in England. Step back in time and enjoy unspoilt countryside, ancient stone circles, picturesque inns, quaint hotels - and breath-taking views.
Protected by its National park status, the hills, hedgerows, rivers and forests that surround Postbridge have seen little intrusion from the modern world. So whether you want a gentle stroll or a challenging hike, Postbridge offers the perfect escape from busy urban lives.
Postbridge is also famed for its 14th Century Clapper Bridge, a fascinating structure made of huge granite slabs - an attraction which has made this village one of Dartmoor's most popular destinations.
If you're staying the night, the East Dart Hotel and Lydgate House Hotel both offer excellent food and comfortable rooms - each delivering a taste of a bygone England. But if you just want a traditional ale in a unique setting, try the Warren House Inn, Britain's 3rd highest pub - around 2 miles outside Postbridge, overlooking spectacular open moorland.
Whatever you choose to do in Postbridge, you're sure to feel energised and relaxed after a visit to the heart of England's last great wilderness.
Protected by its National park status, the hills, hedgerows, rivers and forests that surround Postbridge have seen little intrusion from the modern world. So whether you want a gentle stroll or a challenging hike, Postbridge offers the perfect escape from busy urban lives.
Postbridge is also famed for its 14th Century Clapper Bridge, a fascinating structure made of huge granite slabs - an attraction which has made this village one of Dartmoor's most popular destinations.
If you're staying the night, the East Dart Hotel and Lydgate House Hotel both offer excellent food and comfortable rooms - each delivering a taste of a bygone England. But if you just want a traditional ale in a unique setting, try the Warren House Inn, Britain's 3rd highest pub - around 2 miles outside Postbridge, overlooking spectacular open moorland.
Whatever you choose to do in Postbridge, you're sure to feel energised and relaxed after a visit to the heart of England's last great wilderness.
Monday, 21 July 2008
Copywriter: Writing for Colchester, Essex & the world
Essex.
To someone who has never been to Essex, this fine county conjours up some very specific images and thoughts. And let's face it, some of them are not so flattering.
Females with liberal bedroom attitudes, and males with a penchant for vibrantly painted automobiles containing ear-destroying sound systems. These are clichés.
Accurate clichés.
But one Sunday Rover bus ticket and you can experience a different Essex - a green Essex where rabbits nibble on pretty flowers, where foxes nibble on pretty rabbits, and where farmers shoot pretty foxes. You'll have to keep you eyes open to see this full chain in action.
Let's not forget Flatford Mill either. When you're standing next to that tranquil pond, when you gaze at the quaint old house of Willy Lott - you know for sure that you're looking upon the scene of Constable's Haywain. Mainly because there's a big National Trust sign that says it is - otherwise it bears only a passing resemblence.
The county that gave us Bouicea, or Boudicca, or perhaps Boudiciea also gave us (the Scottish specifically) Robert the Bruce. The man who secured Scottish independence was a Chelmsford lad; he managed to resist the charms of the women and the urge to put go-faster stripes on his horse-drawn cart - and instead lead the Scottish to revolution.
Damon Albarn, another Essex son put Colchester on the map (well, the Romans literally put it on the map, but you know what I mean). Colchester is Britain's oldest recorded town. It's so old, in fact, that there's nothing much left to see. There's a good Chinese takeaway on Mersea Road, and The Odd One Out pub is surely the best pub on the planet. It's run the way pubs used to be run. I imagine. Not by a business man, but by a man. A man who looks like Sean Connery.
I digress though. My point is, with names like John Constable, Dick Turpin, Noel Edmonds and Joe Pasquale haling from this fine County - our reputation is secure.
To someone who has never been to Essex, this fine county conjours up some very specific images and thoughts. And let's face it, some of them are not so flattering.
Females with liberal bedroom attitudes, and males with a penchant for vibrantly painted automobiles containing ear-destroying sound systems. These are clichés.
Accurate clichés.
But one Sunday Rover bus ticket and you can experience a different Essex - a green Essex where rabbits nibble on pretty flowers, where foxes nibble on pretty rabbits, and where farmers shoot pretty foxes. You'll have to keep you eyes open to see this full chain in action.
Let's not forget Flatford Mill either. When you're standing next to that tranquil pond, when you gaze at the quaint old house of Willy Lott - you know for sure that you're looking upon the scene of Constable's Haywain. Mainly because there's a big National Trust sign that says it is - otherwise it bears only a passing resemblence.
The county that gave us Bouicea, or Boudicca, or perhaps Boudiciea also gave us (the Scottish specifically) Robert the Bruce. The man who secured Scottish independence was a Chelmsford lad; he managed to resist the charms of the women and the urge to put go-faster stripes on his horse-drawn cart - and instead lead the Scottish to revolution.
Damon Albarn, another Essex son put Colchester on the map (well, the Romans literally put it on the map, but you know what I mean). Colchester is Britain's oldest recorded town. It's so old, in fact, that there's nothing much left to see. There's a good Chinese takeaway on Mersea Road, and The Odd One Out pub is surely the best pub on the planet. It's run the way pubs used to be run. I imagine. Not by a business man, but by a man. A man who looks like Sean Connery.
I digress though. My point is, with names like John Constable, Dick Turpin, Noel Edmonds and Joe Pasquale haling from this fine County - our reputation is secure.
Gambling: A Very British Hobby
Whether it's an annual flutter on the Grand National, Friday night at the Bingo Hall - or a 24 hour online addiction - most of us have some experience with gambling. Over 30 million British people place a bet on something every year - that's more than half the population.
We're a gambling nation. We have been for a long time - few other nations have 2 or 3 bookmakers on every high street in every town. Perhaps only Ireland can compare. And now it's easier than ever to put your money on a horse-race, a football match or a simulated card-game - with the advent of online gambling. Within seconds you can transfer a month's wages into your account - and place every penny of it on a horse called Lucky Donkey Down a Well. Or some such swiftly named beast.
As we all know, gambling can be massively destructive to people's financial, personal and even physical well-being. One of the reasons governments allow this industry to continue is revenue. The same reason they allow smoking to continue - because it generates huge amounts of money for the treasury. They say, yes, gambling addiction programs and cancer wards cost a fortune - but hey - look at all this cash!
Her Majesty's Government even own Tote - one of Britain's largest betting chains with 500 high street bookmakers. That's what you call a stealth tax.
But the British have always been a nation up for a bet. We gambled several thousand troops and millions of pounds worth of military hardware to secure a few sheep-covered rocks in the Falklands. Those sheep are now safe. If by safe you mean long-since turned into dog food, and Edinburgh Woolen Mill granny jumpers.
We bet that if a nice chap called Neville Chamberlain flew to Munich to chat with the world's most evil genius, said genius would be sure to behave himself and not use his huge military arsenal to destroy Europe. Win some, lose some.
In the UK we love to gamble on anything; dog-fighting, cock-fighting, hamster-fighting - with life itself sometimes - I mean eating out in Britain is like playing Russian Roulette with all six bullets in the chamber - and it's your turn next.
But overall, gambling is fun - it gives you a rush. Sometimes people ask me if I have a gambling problem - I say: the only problem is I keep losing. We just need to eradicate this feature of wagering - and we'll be on to a winner.
We're a gambling nation. We have been for a long time - few other nations have 2 or 3 bookmakers on every high street in every town. Perhaps only Ireland can compare. And now it's easier than ever to put your money on a horse-race, a football match or a simulated card-game - with the advent of online gambling. Within seconds you can transfer a month's wages into your account - and place every penny of it on a horse called Lucky Donkey Down a Well. Or some such swiftly named beast.
As we all know, gambling can be massively destructive to people's financial, personal and even physical well-being. One of the reasons governments allow this industry to continue is revenue. The same reason they allow smoking to continue - because it generates huge amounts of money for the treasury. They say, yes, gambling addiction programs and cancer wards cost a fortune - but hey - look at all this cash!
Her Majesty's Government even own Tote - one of Britain's largest betting chains with 500 high street bookmakers. That's what you call a stealth tax.
But the British have always been a nation up for a bet. We gambled several thousand troops and millions of pounds worth of military hardware to secure a few sheep-covered rocks in the Falklands. Those sheep are now safe. If by safe you mean long-since turned into dog food, and Edinburgh Woolen Mill granny jumpers.
We bet that if a nice chap called Neville Chamberlain flew to Munich to chat with the world's most evil genius, said genius would be sure to behave himself and not use his huge military arsenal to destroy Europe. Win some, lose some.
In the UK we love to gamble on anything; dog-fighting, cock-fighting, hamster-fighting - with life itself sometimes - I mean eating out in Britain is like playing Russian Roulette with all six bullets in the chamber - and it's your turn next.
But overall, gambling is fun - it gives you a rush. Sometimes people ask me if I have a gambling problem - I say: the only problem is I keep losing. We just need to eradicate this feature of wagering - and we'll be on to a winner.
What's your first impression? Website frontpages.
After a good sift through Google, I have yet to find a good blog on first impressions of new websites. I thought it would be great to provide a little blog where people could drop links to their new websites and get constructive criticism from people.
We can cover everything from logo, design, colour, headers, and body copy. Personally I'd love to get some feedback on my own frontpage - I've recently created a new website for my copywriting services.
I like it but have a few reservations, particularly about typeface, main header - and the picture of me!
If you'd like to leave some comments I'd be most appreciative. And I will of course give you feedback on your website too. This is free market research!
Let's find out what makes a good website frontpage...
My website is http://cupofcopy-copywriting.co.uk/ copywriting services for web and print.
Below is a link to some good advice on web design.
http://vandelaydesign.com/blog/design/first-impression/
We can cover everything from logo, design, colour, headers, and body copy. Personally I'd love to get some feedback on my own frontpage - I've recently created a new website for my copywriting services.
I like it but have a few reservations, particularly about typeface, main header - and the picture of me!
If you'd like to leave some comments I'd be most appreciative. And I will of course give you feedback on your website too. This is free market research!
Let's find out what makes a good website frontpage...
My website is http://cupofcopy-copywriting.co.uk/ copywriting services for web and print.
Below is a link to some good advice on web design.
http://vandelaydesign.com/blog/design/first-impression/
Saturday, 19 July 2008
Banana Humping makes Good Writers
Or so I like to believe. Neville Shute said once, you have to have seen some life before you have anything to write. Or something like that.
Although when I went for the Banana Humping job (I think it deserves capitals) it was to prevent myself from going under, Down Under - not to get material for a blog.
No-one mentioned that I would be carrying bunches of bananas up to double my body weight, or that my colleagues would be machete-wielding pot-smokers (I have nothing against pot-smokers, but they shouldn't be combined with machetes).
My point is, that jobs like these give you a new perspective - they let you almost know what it feels like to have your fingers chopped off and see them scattered into the undegrowth of a Ciquita banana plantation. I quit before it got to that stage.
I quit strawberry picking just before the red fruits sprouted legs and ran off.
I gave up pot-washing before the portakabin kitchen on stilts fell 15 feet to the ground (NHS logic).
I Left the mango fields before I was left blinded by the ultra-acidic juice inside.
I Ran away from the tomato farm before the 16-stone lesbian farmer lady ran me over with her quad bike (I have nothing against lesbians, but this one preferred petite female Japanese labour over workshy Poms).
I stopped working for a removal company because the contract was only for 4 hours.
If nothing else, these valuable experiences have provided enough material for a short blog.
My advice is, get as many jobs as possible - but leave before you're maimed, blinded or murdered.
Thanks for your time.
http://cupofcopy-copywriting.co.uk/
Although when I went for the Banana Humping job (I think it deserves capitals) it was to prevent myself from going under, Down Under - not to get material for a blog.
No-one mentioned that I would be carrying bunches of bananas up to double my body weight, or that my colleagues would be machete-wielding pot-smokers (I have nothing against pot-smokers, but they shouldn't be combined with machetes).
My point is, that jobs like these give you a new perspective - they let you almost know what it feels like to have your fingers chopped off and see them scattered into the undegrowth of a Ciquita banana plantation. I quit before it got to that stage.
I quit strawberry picking just before the red fruits sprouted legs and ran off.
I gave up pot-washing before the portakabin kitchen on stilts fell 15 feet to the ground (NHS logic).
I Left the mango fields before I was left blinded by the ultra-acidic juice inside.
I Ran away from the tomato farm before the 16-stone lesbian farmer lady ran me over with her quad bike (I have nothing against lesbians, but this one preferred petite female Japanese labour over workshy Poms).
I stopped working for a removal company because the contract was only for 4 hours.
If nothing else, these valuable experiences have provided enough material for a short blog.
My advice is, get as many jobs as possible - but leave before you're maimed, blinded or murdered.
Thanks for your time.
http://cupofcopy-copywriting.co.uk/
Friday, 18 July 2008
Random word chosen from a book
No ideas you say? I've got plenty, and this is the first one - a random word found in a random book (well, one of 6 on the shelf over there) chosen in a pin-the-tail-on-the donkey sort of way.
What's the word?
Brooding.
Yes, brooding. In italics it looks like - brooding. I didn't actually use a pin, the word jumped out and found me. Quite appropriate really, as I am no stranger to the concept. What else can you say about it (apart from 'it's a poor basis for a blog')?
Brooding is the sort of thing you do when you simply...hang on what does it actually mean?
1. To sit on or hatch (eggs).
2. To protect (young) by or as if by covering with the wings.
v.intr.
1. To sit on or hatch eggs.
2. To hover envelopingly; loom.
3.
a. To be deep in thought; meditate.
b. To focus the attention on a subject persistently and moodily; worry: brooded over the insult for several days.
c. To be depressed.
adj.
Ok, that's what I thought it was. I am now 'focussing my attention on' brooding 'persistently and moodily' - or am I merely sitting on it waiting for it to hatch? What sort of a baby would 'brooding' be anyway, were I to sit on it until it cracked open? A morose little sod I'd guess.
Perhaps we should hike up our collective skirt, peer down at the un-hatched 'brooding' and crack it into a hot frying pan? What do you say?
Brooding sandwiches for all.
What's the word?
Brooding.
Yes, brooding. In italics it looks like - brooding. I didn't actually use a pin, the word jumped out and found me. Quite appropriate really, as I am no stranger to the concept. What else can you say about it (apart from 'it's a poor basis for a blog')?
Brooding is the sort of thing you do when you simply...hang on what does it actually mean?
1. To sit on or hatch (eggs).
2. To protect (young) by or as if by covering with the wings.
v.intr.
1. To sit on or hatch eggs.
2. To hover envelopingly; loom.
3.
a. To be deep in thought; meditate.
b. To focus the attention on a subject persistently and moodily; worry: brooded over the insult for several days.
c. To be depressed.
adj.
Ok, that's what I thought it was. I am now 'focussing my attention on' brooding 'persistently and moodily' - or am I merely sitting on it waiting for it to hatch? What sort of a baby would 'brooding' be anyway, were I to sit on it until it cracked open? A morose little sod I'd guess.
Perhaps we should hike up our collective skirt, peer down at the un-hatched 'brooding' and crack it into a hot frying pan? What do you say?
Brooding sandwiches for all.
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