MANATEES AND MALE MEMBERS

I realise with horror, that it's around 35 years since my first ever travel feature appeared in print. I remember it well. Although I was serving in the Royal Navy, I wrote up my experiences for my local newspaper, the Kirkintilloch Herald, now part off the giant Johnson Press Group. Things of course were very different then. Having to wait for photographs to be developed and printed, then posting the package off to the newspaper and seeing the results appear in print some weeks later.
Now, my photographs are being seen by the editorial people within hours of them being taken and people are commenting in some numbers about my blog. That's really useful because it means that I can correct any factual errors before they appear in print.
Over that time, I have encountered some wonderful people, many of whom have become lifelong friends. I have also met a lot of folk who have either been in the job for too long and become complacent or who clearly can't be bothered to find out what a journalist actually wants. It's lazy PR and it's completely counterproductive. No journalist is ever going to write about things which don't fit the brief.
Sometimes, you get teams which really impress. I have been blessed today with one of those. Sparky, responsive, intelligent, flexible. Jessica and Michelle from the Bradenton Convention and Visitor Bureau are absolute stars.
Jessica, who's pretty new to the area, was on the doorstep of my sumptuous accommodation bright and early this morning to really get to grips with what I was after. I took her on a tour of the apartment which, I have discovered is 2000 plus square feet with an additional 300 square feet of terrace. I measured 41 metres from my walk in wardrobe to the furthest extent of the spare room. Amazing! A week in this wonderful place (www.annamaria.com) for around $2500.
As Jessica comes up with ideas, back in the office, Michelle fixes things up, changes times, arranges new activities. It's a hugely impressive bit of team work
We start at the Island Creperie and plan the day in a most civilised manner over breakfast. Conservative me goes for scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, wrapped up in a wholemeal pancake, but thin as a rake twenty something Jessica wades in for something disgracefully creamy, sweet and chocolaty. I just couldn't do it. Well not before nine in the morning.
Olivier, the chef/owner is originally from Paris and delights in telling me how the French are triumphing over the Scots and the English in the rugby six nations. It's the first place I have actually had a really decent cup of coffee since I came to the USA, not just some watery grey stuff.
Nearby to the creperie is the 720 feet long Bradenton Beach pier. We are amused by 'kamikaze' pelicans, who hurtle themselves into the water after their prey. I am highly amused when Jessica goes into a cafe to enquire when the pier was built, in response to a question from me, to find me pointing to a huge '1921' built into the structure.
I joke with an elderly couple that they are seating on the swing seat traditionally used for proposing marriage. After declaring that they are 44 years too late, they give up their spaces to allow Jessica and I to move in. For some inexplicable reason, she then heads off at a brisk trot in the opposite direction. Hmmm.
We head for the beaches, which are almost as nice as the ones at Fort de Soto. At one point, a notice encourages us to take our shoes off, so we don't 'dirty the sand'! Jessica gets back on the wedding track, telling me how nice it is to have the ceremony on the beach. This apparently gives the blushing bride the opportunity to wear flip flops under her wedding gown.
We head off to meet Jennifer Taylor, a Londoner from Bermondsey. She and her husband have lovingly restored a 1926 wooden house into a delightful six bedroom B and B. Jessica likes it because 'The Londoner' (www.thelondonerinn.com) also does a pretty mean traditional afternoon tea and, having spent six months working in the UK capital, she knows that Jennifer will always have a decent cup of tea on the go. Having had a really good breakfast, I turn down the chance of a freshly baked scone with home made lemon curd, only to be teasingly scolded by Jessica afterwards for doing so. My host loves lemon curd!
I must confess that, before my visit to Florida, I knew nothing about manatees, except that they are an extremely endangered species. But Michelle has fixed up for me to meet Snooty, a 61 year old, 1180 pound, West Indian Manatee who was born in captivity. Jeff Rogers of the South Florida Museum takes us 'back stage' at the aquarium, where Snooty, a real showman, delights Jessica and I with his enthusiasm for people. Marilyn, the aquarium director and Caitlin, who has just finished a public show, talk with some pride about their huge mammal. Snooty and two other younger manatees, which are being rehabilitated back to the wild, exist on a diet mainly of lettuce leaves with a mix of other vegetables and boy does their breath stink.
Bradenton is where the Tropicana orange juice is made, but they don't do trips any more, which is a pity. But Michelle has come up with a 'must see' in the town's 'Village of the Arts'. Now this is quirky. All sorts of artists have gathered together in one area and turned the area into a colourful, eclectic mix. The 'must see' is a tree sculpted out of stainless steel where male members (I am not sure how else to put this bit) hang down like leaves. I have no idea what the message might be!
We are now well into the afternoon, so Jessica asks me again if I regret turning down the scone with lemon curd. However, the Bonni Bakes cafe squeezes us in before the staff all go home. Guest chef Amy Scott has recruited her mother, Mary Jane and brother Christopher to recreate southern style cooking. So we have grits, corn pie and Mardi gras red beans. We are persuaded to wear strings of gaudily coloured beads around our necks to celebrate 'Fat Tuesday', which it is. The meal is rounded off by Mary Jane's absolutely yummy Key Lime pie, the recipe for which I just HAVE to have!
Jessica ends the day with another tour round Ana Maria island, pointing out places I might like to go on the bike which I'll have for the next couple of days. Ana Maria has wonderful beaches, is laid back and tranquil, with some seriously quirky folk. My quest to discover the 'Hidden Florida' is, in recent days, yielding some seriously good results.

Flights and Football, St. Pete's Beach, Saturday evening

Damn fractious children. Especially damn them when they are next door in a hotel that has paper for walls. But the bloody thing shut up about 1am. An hour later, I was awakened by revellers returning from Pensacola's Mardi Gras parades. GRRRRRR.
At breakfast, I hand the waitress my voucher for my 'Complimentary full breakfast'. She returns with a bill for nearly nine dollars. Apparently guests are not allowed orange juice, cereal and something hot, despite the fact it's all pictured on the voucher itself.
Pensacola Airport is nice and small, so car return, check in and security is completed with the minimum of fuss.
I am impressed how nice the security experience is. The staff are diligent, but friendly. Quite unlike the jobsworths that seem to have been recruited at most UK airports.
It's mid Saturday morning in the United States and mid afternoon in the UK. So, I thoroughly enjoy the experience of listening to a second half Premiership football commentary at 23,000 feet. I am not aware of any UK airlines that allow you to do the same. Amazing. I even hear the Norwich result.
The Air Tran staff at Atlanta are doing a good sales pitch for the remaining business class seats. They are all snapped up, allowing a few more economy seats to be occupied. The flight to Tampa is full.
There's a lovely view of some offshore islands as we approach the airport, they look superb and I am looking forward very much to seeing them over the next few days.
I scamper to Hertz to collect my car and find myself being allocated a brand new, top of the range, Ford Mercury Sable. When I have collected my bags and set off, I discover that the car even has Sirius satellite radio and I am once again tuned into the BBC World Service.
I am slightly apprehensive as I drive through the rather gaudy main drag in St. Pete's Beach that I am going to be back in Blackpool. But Pasa Tiempo, my 'Private Waterfront Resort' turns out to be absolutely charming. It's adult only with only eight suites. My spacious accommodation has a really comfortable living room, well equipped kitchen, spacious bedroom and nice bathroom. Outside, there are peaceful gardens, endless running fountains and a nice sized pool.
The local tourist board has left a comprehensive brief and press pack, together with a really nice note and goodies including a beach towel and a little rucsac. Obviously St. Pete's and Clearwater has a big budget!
In the evening in the Pasa Tiempo, there are lit candles everywhere, complimentary liqueurs, snacks and coffee.
I set off to see the sunset over the Gulf of Mexico and watch a young heron enjoying the spectacle. Shortly afterwards, a fisherman gives the bird a fish, only for it to be stolen moments later by an older bird.
I stock up with some provisions and manage to do my laundry back at the Pasa Tiempo. A quiet night in tonight, tomorrow's explorations look like being quite demanding.
Bizarrely, when I switch on the TV, the chanel it's on is showing nothing but old BBC repeats. Are You Being Served, Keeping up Appearances and To the Manor Born.
Somehow, surrounded by comfy floral patterned settees and armchairs, it seems absolutely right.