Good Hotel Guide
Hostels and Hotels in Sheffield
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Bamford, Barnsley, Bramley, Chapeltown, Chesterfield, Dronfield, Eyam, Hathersage, Holmesfield, Hope Valley, Mexborough, Newbold, Oughtibridge, Rotherham, Sheffield, Staveley, Treeton, Worksop
For UK travelers going abroad, we recommend Tenerife, with feel of the UK yet all the sun of Tenerife. Read an extract below from More Ketchup than Salsa, the story of a English couple who left the UK to set up life in Tenerife. Info on how to buy the book can be found below.
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Below you will find short extracts from More ketchup than Salsa by Joe Cawley – not to be missed.
Short Extract
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Naturally, environmentalists were none too pleased with this trans-continental transfer of earthly treasure. Consequently, many of the South’s other beaches had to draw on sub-oceanic reserves, sucking golden sand (and startled marine life) off the seabed, blowing it along lengthy sections of tubing and spitting it back out onto dry land, just like the one in Las Américas. Joy and I pitched camp between two families. One was Spanish, several generations sheltering from the sun under a marquee of overlapping beach brollies. A wall of towels draped from the umbrellas provided security from the gusts of sea breeze, protecting the picnic they had laid out on one of the white plastic sunbeds. A carpet of remaining towels protected the delicate feet of the younger members of the family from the hot sand. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were all dressed in swimsuits, except the grandmother, who was clad all in black save for a straw boater, you’d be forgiven for thinking that you were peering into someone’s living room. Huge efforts had been made to repel the conditions that you’d normally seek on a beach sand, the sunshine and a sea view. A red-top newspaper protruding from the top of a straw shopping bag gave an obvious clue as to the nationality of our other neighbours. The family of four couldn’t have displayed a more contrasting outlook on beach excursions. They were here to revel in all three enemies of the Spanish clan.
Bamford, Barnsley, Bramley, Chapeltown, Chesterfield, Dronfield, Eyam, Hathersage, Holmesfield, Hope Valley, Mexborough, Newbold, Oughtibridge, Rotherham, Sheffield, Staveley, Treeton, Worksop
It was Motown madness on Thursday night. Maxi Belle had recommended a soul act who, apparently, used to be in The Drifters. It was not an uncommon boast, half of the black singers who threw in the obligatory ‘On the Boardwalk’ into their set also made the same claim. If you believed all the claimants, the Drifters would have had more members than the London Symphony Orchestra, and that was just in Tenerife. Having seen his act, whether he was ex-anything or not, we couldn’t deny that he was good. Gene Alexander had an ultra-smooth voice, dazzling footwork and was one of the most professional acts that we had seen on the island. However, he didn’t come cheap, especially when he found out that he’d have to travel out of town to accommodate the Smugglers into his schedule. But Gene didn’t disappoint. He was a huge hit with the holidaymakers and many residents from far afield, who would make their only appearance at our bar on the Thursdays when Gene was performing. Joy’s theatrical aspirations were briefly fulfilled as she joined Gene in a dance routine that they had worked on for ‘Up On the Roof’. It was only after a few weeks of Gene’s gigs that we found out he was capable of getting much higher than just the roof. One Thursday he had arrived over half an hour late and the audience were growing impatient. The two Johns were having a particularly annoying day: ‘I think your ex-Drifter’s an ex-Smugglers now,’ said John One.
The summer routine was for one couple to prep and shop from nine in the morning then open the doors for breakfast at 10.30. They would then work until 1.30 before heading off for a siesta and handing over to the others, who would then work alone until the other couple came back in at 6.30p.m.. The couple that started the day would also finish the day, locking up after the last person left, which was frequently on the yawning side of 2a.m. The rota would be reversed the following day. This meant that there were always four people working through the busiest period of seven till ten. It also meant that I worked with Faith in the kitchen while David ran the bar and helped Joy on the waiting side. Being thrown in at the deep end and all being equal partners resulted in the familiar ‘too many chiefs, not enough Indians’ scenario. Menial tasks were being overlooked while everybody was keen to put their stamp on the surroundings. In the backroom, Faith was in charge of the cooking while I took the orders, prepared the garnishes and accompaniments and washed up as we went along. By now we were regularly topping a hundred meals a night in a four-hour slot. In the 140-degree heat, stress cracks were beginning to show. Faith in particular was suffering. Inhaling chip fumes while leaning over four super-hot gas rings and an industrial oven were visibly melting her work capacity. Orders were backing up on the board and Joy, who was undergoing a barrage of hassle from hungry patrons waiting to be fed, was exerting pressure. There was no time for small talk; the only conversations ran along the following lines: