Didsburydad's Blog

From the not so mean streets of M20, blog about being a dad, Didsbury and dealing with parental confusion

Archive for the tag “The Galleon”

Ironing out that kink in your shoulder

When 20 years of Didsbury’s finest fly posting site was removed from the space that had once been Sweaty Betty’s Chippy on Barlowmoor Road it was a happy day. Since giving up my brush and bucket in the 90s I’ve always been a little envious of good fly posting.    Global News – likely to re-open soon? The adverts in the window for 2010 World Cup say not.
Didsbury’s First Day Spa was the promise. A promise as likely as Global News’ “refit” working well with the same staff. Finally, somewhere other than all the other places already pampering, pummelling and powdering the tired joints, cellulite-riven hips and Yucon oil powered calves of M20.  

  Didsbury’s First Day Spa

But No. The external refit and many rolls of insulation were all we got. As soon as the timeshare offer went in the window, the smell of desperation, masked the potential snort of Lavender and Sandalwood. 

Beauty Parlours often suffer from similar name issues to hairdressers. I love Evie’s Retreat on Lapwing Lane, but often wondered if it was a euphemism. No one has brought my self-employed January offer, “Wax, relax, don’t worry about your tax”, but in secret, Didsbury is becoming a beacon for treatments where a happy ending means you’ve had good therapy and the treatment has done its job. 

Our G4 and Billie’s fabulous Didsbury Village Physio are warriors in the fight against creaking and having kept my clicking knees straightened. 

From My Wellbeing Place’s Indonesian-trained treatments at The Waterside Hotel (still The Galleon if you’re over 39 and a lot) to Blade’s post wet shave shoulder rub via a Healthy Spirit holistic hoedown thee is plenty to go at. I’m going to take one for the team, and try out some Didsbury Treatments so you know where to go. 

I may set up a JustGiving page to help me. Didsburydadneedsaliedownwithwarmstones.com/just give. Although the failure of Couldsomeonegetmilkfortbetwins-Icantbearsed/JustGiving to pull in anything doesn’t bode well.

I’ll let you know next week. Right now I’m going to positively envisage Cafe Rouge re-opening and Waitrose taking over Global News.  

  If Waitrose don’t respond to this plea from the boddlers I’m stumped.

The Sun, The Didsbury and The Blue Harbour

We’re having a heat wave, dah dah dah dah dah dah, a tropical heat wave, dah dah dah dah dah dah. It means June will be cloudy dah dah dah dah dah dah dah and slightly depressing…

A tree with yellow flowers soaks up the May sun

It is gorgeous. The kind of bright sunshine with balmy nights that make you forget who and what you are.

In my mind, as I strolled through Didsbury Park to the train station I was the suave looking and stylish young professional in the kind of outfit a Bermudan banker would wear to work. Topped off with my pristine Air Force 1s.

The reality of the wide berth granted me by dog walkers and early-to-school sun lovers was different. I am swerving dangerously close to BHS’s target market. An unintentionally close-fitted blue harbour collection with Asda socks and a three-day stubble that made me look like an extra in a Ken Loach film; who had stolen his teenage son’s shoes.

Didsbury Son doesn’t mind, yet. He is still on that cusp where brand recognition is not yet an issue and he thinks many Didsbury Dads see wearing long trousers to work as an affront to legs honed to near perfection on the occasionally working exercise bikes at The Galleon.

Everywhere looks good in this weather. But it has its domestic dangers. Yesterday I worked outside. Today I am the shade of red called “Fire” or “Salsa Roja” by car makers and “you should know better” by GPs and the woman in Boots who sneered in my direction. (not Didsbury Boots, where David in the pharmacy is a prince among men but an inferior outlet).

It is the sounds and smells of the city that really make this early summer sun so special. The sound in the park of teenage boys’ newly broken voices bragging, as they lope around looking achingly uneasy in their ill-fitting skins. They search for cross-gender communication skills unused in Sniper Elite.

The smell of barbecues mixes with people caught out by the hot weather. Personal hygiene malfunctions blend with the skinned up smell of summer spiffs that waft on the breeze across M20.

The hot spell has finally kicked off some sense of Jubilee anticipation. My cynicism at the general recycling of all the Kate and Wills merchandise without the photos is melting in the May sunshine. We are Mancs. An extra day off and hot weather gets United fans cheering City, Didsbury Son lurking by the washing up in the hope of more outside play and gives me the knowledge that this year Blue Harbour is the suburban Prada and I have a George Clooney vibe a la Descendents (2nd Half).



Work on the new Didsbury Deli continues

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