Tag Archives: wellness

Houndgate Cafe

An image from the local Dine magazine

In a small bistro in the centre of Darlington, big ideas were being refined by its two managers.

Louise and I were to open this new dining establishment back in 2008. I know the date well. As we opened the doors, the news came out that a worldwide economic crash had begun.

It seemed like we were going to be up against it straight away!

It is true that we had no experience in managing such a big project within this industry. And we certainly had no experience of the massive impact the economic crash would have on an industry such as a restaurant. But we created something special for our loyal customers.

Lou would create the menu and design the serving styles of each dish whilst managing the kitchen. I became the wine and coffee ‘specialist’ while managing front of house.

Saturdays were especially busy and people would often be queuing out of the door to get a seat where, regrettably, once I had to turn down ex England manager Steve McClaren and his family as the waiting time for a table went well into extra time.

But in those down times, where people would call in for a cuppa, we made sure that we had time for a chat.

I love cafe culture. Some of my most memorable moments on my travels were just sitting outside the cafe at places like Piazza Della Signora in Florence and the quaint cimbalimo in Tomar drinking an americano.

Somehow, it allows the world to stand still for a moment. Sure, I see the people mulling about and going about their business, but it all seems calm. Peaceful.

So that’s what I wanted to create a little bit of for the customers of Houndgate Cafe.

Fast forward fifteen years and it is still what I want to create for my customers. And since Houndgate I’ve added to my people skills with working in the fitness industry.

Roll my experience up into a ball and you kind of get what we will create in Portugal. A wellbeing centre and glamping site. Or Centro de bem estar é glamping, as it will be known.

For the past twelve months I’ve been dreaming of seeing our visitors sitting outside their accommodation, cooking BBQ food and enjoying the Portuguese summer evenings. Well, that and dreaming of Liverpool winning the Premier League, but you get what I mean.

I can only create what I know that I would want in a service. That’s what I’ve always done. As a support worker, I wanted to treat people like I would want to be supported. At Houndgate, I wanted to give the customer the experience that I look for in a bistro. And as a personal trainer, I wanted to make the client feel positive about themselves both mentally and physically.

Our youthful optimism from when we began our journey at Houndgate has since taken some beatings. After all, we need to experience the lows for us to know where to improve and embrace the highs! It’s just a part of the process.

But our ideas are now ready to be rolled out onto new beginnings. We’re ready to create something new again.

Artic Roll

We provide the kids with packed lunches each day for school. There are a few reasons for this but the main reason is that Lou and I can inspect their lunch boxes at the end of their school day to make sure they’ve been eating enough.

We usually include a sandwich or wrap, crisps, a pepperami stick and vegetable sticks. They do, in case you were wondering, a very good job of eating it all (apart from the occasional sorry looking carrot stick in at the bottom of the bag).

But this morning our youngest, Finlay (6) asked if he could have a school meal next Wednesday. ‘Of course!’ I replied. ‘What’s so special about Wednesday’s meal?’

‘They do ice cream with sponge around it.’ He said.

The memories of my own childhood came flooding back. I remember eating this ice cream wrapped in sponge while watching Hi-Di-Hi every Saturday. This delicious dessert is the arctic roll. Or artic roll as I called it as a kid and probably did up until my 30’s.

I don’t recall many experiences of eating an arctic roll as an adult, but since Finlay reminded me of it all I’ve wanted all day is to eat one!

I had a sweet tooth as a child but rarely eat sweet puddings these days, but I do know that these old skool dinner puds are still available in UK supermarkets. Puddings such as jam roly poly, spotted dick, rice pudding and apple crumble.

I wonder if anyone has any more of their classic favourites that bring back childhood memories? Let me know in the comments!

Letting Off A Bit Of Steam

https://youtube.com/shorts/HaKNb5XmaZ0?si=ySpzqNRhA0R4Q0a1

We are now within our final two weeks of living in the UK before our move to Portugal. The process has been hard and the uncertainty for the four of us has taken its toll. However, developments have taken place over the past few days and we even have our consulate date now for Manchester later this month. So we are on the right track.

But Sunday was a time to let off a bit of steam. Lou, the boys and I took a drive to the village of Grosmont, a picturesque place in the North York Moors and had a lovely walk along the old railway track.

It was very refreshing not to be talking about glamping, central Portugal, VISA applications or packing. We just breathed in the moment.

And we saw just how beautiful England is and, especially being Yorkshire folk, how lucky we are for having this on our doorstep.

Sycamore Tree

Sometimes, I feel like a tree.

I can stand tall and firm during stormy weathers, despite my leaves and branches looking a little dishevelled from the whole experience.

I am frequently visited and loved by many, I know. But I can feel lonely and vulnerable too.

People come and talk to me and ask me stuff. Yes me! A tree! I try to give good advice. I have, after all, some years of experience at living life.

I am beautiful.

They can kick me. They can cut me down. They can destroy me.

But I am not the problem. They are.

And for all their destruction, my energy will continue to give the people who I love and who love me the strength that they need to carry on.

Sometimes, I feel like a tree. But I’m not. I am so grateful to share this planet with a tree because I’m not worthy.

I am beautiful. But I’m not a tree.

Never Change, Finlay

For a few years now Lou, Finlay and I have watched Jonas lift the trophies, receive the accolades and praise of the teachers and sports coaches which has been a joy. But there has always been a sadness in my heart when I sat applauding him as he has his pictures taken with the players at Scarborough Athletic and I look at Finlay and wish ‘when can Finlay have his moment?’

Jonas received his swimming badges before Finlay, he became the school sports star, was known as the class maths whizz, had the striking curly hair that the old ladies loved to fuss over in the street. Finlay has always looked on.

Now, of course, Finlay is two and a half years younger, so Jonas would always reach certain developmental milestones ahead of Finlay. But I could see that Finlay felt overshadowed. Or maybe, it’s us as parents that have felt this on behalf of Finlay. He has always shown support towards his big brother and he has never complained.

However, Finlay became the comedian. His attempts, I believe to stand out and be seen, was to be the ‘class clown’.

And I know this because that was me as a kid and then into adulthood. Even now, I’m never too far away from telling a crap joke. At school I was always one of the first to be picked for sports teams. That was never an issue. But in class and amongst my peers, I always felt on the periphery. I wanted an identity. Being ‘sporty’ just wasn’t enough. I had all this creative energy waiting to burst out of me and as a teenager this came out by writing poetry, stand up routines and comedy sketches. I got more joy out of hearing someone laugh than scoring a winning goal.

Today Finlay received his first ever certificate of achievement at his school. We were invited to the assembly and Lou and I beamed with pride. It was awarded for always giving his 100% in his work.

I want Finlay to understand that he is his own person. He doesn’t have to follow in his brother’s footsteps of being a footballer. I’d much rather he didn’t! He doesn’t have to be good at whatever Jonas is good at. Finlay just needs to be Finlay, doing what he is doing and turning into a wonderful young boy.

Never change, Finlay, never change.

The Squirrel At Shuttleworth Garden

It’s a beautiful September morning in Scarborough, England today. The sun is shining, the air is crisp and the sea gently glistens. For all my needs to leave for Portugal, I can’t imagine a better setting for what could be my last ever personal training session in the UK.

The park at Shuttleworth garden once again provides a wonderful outdoor gym. The views are spectacular of the sea and the castle in the distance. The animals came to observe what I was doing too. One squirrel in particular seemed very interested in my kettlebell.

This park is special to me. Once lockdown restrictions were relaxed and exercise in parks were permitted, this was one of the parks I would use. The lady who I trained today is special too as I trained her throughout 2020 and has been a weekly trainee with me for over four years now. So her dedication has been fantastic. Next week, if the weather is as lovely as today and I have the time in-between packing etc, I’d like to think we could get one more session in at Shuttleworth garden.

I like to live in the moment so I often forget to take pictures. I also didn’t want any unnecessary movements to scare the squirrel away, but I think I captured the moment that the squirrel scurried over to see what I was doing as I set up my equipment.

Maybe he wanted to join in, but that would be nuts.

Don’t Just Believe Me! Do Your Research!

Early on in my Personal Training career I decided to stop certain weight loss claims to grab a potential client’s attention.

Things like ‘lose a guaranteed 5 pounds a week on my new weight loss plan!’ seemed tacky and tabloid. It’s also misleading.

I also felt that the magic pills and fad diet ads that cluttered my social media feed were damaging to our health and fitness goals. But if they make money from you, they will sell it. They will claim any benefit they can in order for you to buy that product. The regulations on such claims are virtually none existent.

Social media allows us as individuals and the companies that are selling a service, to say whatever we like. Ok. We might be fact checked or receive a three day ban for going against certain guidelines, but how many people are we able to reach before it is flagged as inappropriate or false information?

And giving out falsehoods can be profitable if your face fits. A TOWIE turned influencer can successfully promote the latest diet fad. An extra from Home Alone can encourage an attack on the US Capitol. Heck! Even Katie Hopkins and Billie Piper’s ex can get the British voting public to leave the EU and destroy the economy. All by using buzzwords, soundbites and propaganda.

It has happened long before social media of course. The written press has lied to not only sell questionable products, but fund German fascist regimes ( 1933,The Mail, Lord Rothermere) and criminalise the victims of a football stadium disaster (1988, Rupert Murdoch, The Sun).

And here’s a story that proves the lack of investigative journalism in the UK for the sake of a headline. A story was put out about an England football fan who was so worried about the risk of England failing in the 2006 World Cup that he had paid £100 to insure himself against emotional trauma. The story continued that, if he could provide medical evidence that he had suffered trauma, he would receive a payout of £1 million by a particular online insurance company.

UK tabloids ran with this story, of course, but it didn’t stop there. The Guardian newspaper and the Telegraph too! It even made TV and radio news from no other than ITV, Sky and the BBC. Yes! The BBC! So it must be true, right.

No.

With a quick Google check it was discovered that this guy had been involved in insurance stories before using the same company. One involving insurance on his mortgage and, remarkably, he was the same England football fan who had insured his mental well-being at the previous World Cup in Japan in 2002.

As it turned out, this guy was a marketing director who specialised in promoting web based companies. He had successfully promoted the online insurance company whilst proving that the media, including the UK’s national broadcaster, were lazy in their attempts to bring us factual news.

The health and fitness industry relies heavily on the media running these kinds of remarkable stories in order to get the word out that their product really works!

‘Gemma lost 6 stone by drinking apple cider vinegar!’

‘Bryan gained a six pack by eating fish and chips every day!’

‘Gaynor looks drop dead gorgeous in figure hugging dress after this six week nutrition plan!’

And even I’m a part of that. I appreciate you reading my articles, I really do, but don’t just take my word for it! If there’s something that resonates with you in a health and fitness blog then do a bit of research and find out if it is right for you. Are there any other experts out there that are backing up what I’m saying?

The bottom line is that you have to do your own research when it comes to stuff that you read and hear. You’ll get to know credible sources. You’ll be more confident getting your information from certain people or publications. Ask people that you trust in your own life. Once you have gathered the evidence then you can make more informed choices. And if it is anything to do with your health and wellbeing, then being armed with informed choices is super important to you.

The Volume Goes To 9

For years (as long as I can remember in fact), I was unable to put the volume of the TV or the car to an odd number. This branched out into oven settings, reading until I reached an even number and other stuff which I had control over. I even set my clients sets of 6,8,10,12 reps. Rarely would I stop a set that I was performing myself at 11, for example.

It’s not through superstition, which is just as well. My eldest was born in 2013 on Friday the 13th. He’s called Jonas. A little shuffle of the words spells Jason! Luckily, Jonas hasn’t asked for a hockey mask yet.

Anyway, back to my odd, odd number thingy. Apparently, this is called imparnumerophobia and it is common.

It has never taken over my life or anything. In fact, it’s something that my wife and I would joke about. She would turn the volume up on a song that she likes in the car and if it went to 9, I would discreetly alter it with the volume on the steering wheel. 10 if I liked it too, 8 if I didn’t.

But, strangely, I’ve been able to control this anxiety recently. My head is in a space that I’ve never known before. Serene. Zen. Of course I am still capable of emotion, feeling fear and sadness. But my journey this year has toughened me up. Every day mine and my family’s future is awaiting further information. So many questions unanswered. When the phone rings this whizz popping in my belly happens. Is it the estate agents? Is it the solicitors? Is it good news or bad?

These butterflies are my adrenal glands. Survival mode kicks in.

But I can point to other periods of my life where I’ve had to develop strength that I didn’t know that I had. Periods where my adrenaline took over.

Starting a new job. Asking my (now) wife to marry me. Opening the doors for the very first time to a new family business. Performing my very first fitness class. Visiting my mum in St Gemma’s. Going to her funeral.

They all required me to say to myself “You’ve got this, Shay, you’re strong.”

And people think I am. Some people might see me as being quite hard, in control, calm. And in truth I try to be the swan. Folk don’t see the feet paddling like f*** below the surface.

A subtle sign, perhaps, would have been the imparnumerophobia. But it’s not something anyone can really detect. It goes unnoticed unless I announce it.

But where’s this little quirk gone? Am I cured? I mean, not that it was an illness, but it did alert me to my anxieties which, in turn, caused more anxiety. Has my skin developed such thickness that I can now laugh in the face of number 7,9,11? Or even 13?!

Maybe not quite so much.

Sure, I can keep the volume on 9 without it really freaking me out, but every day I need to keep saying to myself “You’ve got this Shay.”

So maybe I’m just keeping it all at bay. After all, there won’t be time for cocktails by the pool once I reach Portugal. I’ll need to keep this strength and go again to make the move work.

“Deep breaths Shay, and count to 9.”