Fun in the Sun

Well, that's what we would be having if only there was a bit more of it.

First priority, obviously, is to get the bike sorted. So off we went to the local Kawasaki dealer, to ask about fitting the spares we sent on ahead, a Manx-mind-boggling distance of some ten miles away in Castletown.

As I wandered around the showroom, a voice went "Is that a Liam?" The Island is small enough there's a fair chance of just randomly bumping into people you know, even when you left ten years earlier. In this case Tony Shipton, brother of Cathy - "Nurse Duffy" in Casualty, I am told. He helped me buy my first motorbike and taught me to ride.

They didn't know if they could do it, asking me to return the next day. Good job they didn't know how far I'd come. As an assistant, Steve, commented to Tony and I, "I only go up to Douglas about once a month. But that's more than the boss - he goes about once a year, if he can't avoid it, so the missus can do her Xmas shopping." Scary big town, Douglas.

So instead, I jet-washed the trike then we went down to the Calf Sound cafe.

Only it's gone. Bulldozed.

So we lay around in the sun for an hour so so, in silence apart from the water and the gulls... Hard work, this dynamic holidaymaking.

Sometime later

Since we were meeting up with an old schoolfriend of mine there, later on, we returned to Castletown to eat - thus encountering the true horror of the Island out of season. The "Glue Pot" pub does Thai food - but only on Fridays and Saturdays. There’s nothing at all other times. Bunter’s restaurant has closed, replaced by Compton’s Brasserie. The menu look OK, and the door was open - so we entered, to be met by a startled owner. He apologised; he wasn’t open until next week. He’d lost the key to his menu display box, so couldn’t update his opening times. He suggested the Garrison tapas bar, a few doors down, the Chablis Cellar on the harbourfront, or a place in another town.

The waterside restaurant was completely empty, and offered just two vegetarian dishes: melon, to start, followed by… stuffed melon. For nearly twenty quid. Everything else was expensive fake-French stuff: unimpressive.

The tapas bar was fully booked.

So we went to the pub. At least the Viking’s simple fare was fast, inexpensive and reasonable. I was touched by the locals’ welcome-back birthday party for a group of German bikers - complete with birthday cake!

Bill and Debbie, who are quiet types, wanted to leave at about 10:30. "When does it shut?" I asked out of curiosity.

"He calls last orders in about 15 minutes," said Bill.

"So no later, even with the new licensing laws?" (The Island revoked licensing hours last year - alcohol can be sold 24x7 if the proprietors so wish.)

"That’s not happened just yet," said Bill with confidence.

"Yes, it has," I told him.

"No, the Methodists would never have it!"

It became law last year. It was all over the UK papers, and it’s proudly proclaimed in the TT guidebook. Yet, typically, the locals don’t know. The pub actually stays open ’til midnight.

Nothing much ever changes in Manx life…