I don’t actually pinch myself, as that would hurt, but I look out over Douglas Bay every day and think: I do hope I’m not going to wake up and find that this is just a dream. I have really done it. I live on the Isle of Man. 🙂
I have mixed feelings about wanting to show it off to everyone and wanting keep it a secret. Here are some photos and comments from my first few weeks:
At dawn, the jets have already started taking off from Liverpool
A scooting kid tries to race the horse tram along the prom (taken last summer, the horses have a rest in winter)
Onchan Head taken from Douglas Head across the bay
You may have heard about the storms, the Beast from the East and Storm Emma, that brought some extreme weather to the UK (Isle of Man is not officially in the UK but geographically we are bang in the middle). We only had light snow. I’ve been in snow before, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen it snowing. I absolutely LOVE it, I hope we have more next year.
The first few snowflakes
Just enough to make my little snowman, though it had turned to ice by now! This was the start of my fame on the Isle of Man, the picture made it into the smallest of the “Readers Pictures” in the local paper….
…..the following week, this one made it as the feature readers’ photo in the same paper! This was Emma in full swing. I cannot tell you how icy that wind was….
….Lucky for me I’d had a few good finds in the charity shops and sales. That puffy jacket has a hood that comes about 20cm in front of my face. I can’t see where I’m going, but it keeps the wind out!
You all know I love my public transport. One of my favourite trips is the 5C bus that goes up to Ramsay mostly on the TT course, except for a deviation to Peel. The day after it snowed most I missed out on the front row seats on the top of the double-decker bus to four South Africans but happily they got off in Peel and I was able to get some photos from the 9th to the 14th milestones: 
For some reason they haven’t landed on this page in the right order.
I may get around to sorting them out one day! Only the TT enthusiasts will notice. By the time we got to Kirk Michael the sun had been out for a while and a lot of the snow had melted. There were still a few bits on the ground at Whitehouse, my favourite marshalling spot:
It looks so different with no leaves on the trees. I think we could have done without the shade on some of those chilly MGP days last year!
And there’s our red door cottage (one of the Whitehouse Cottages) where we’ve stayed for the Classic TT/Manx Grand Prix fortnight since 2013. I shall miss staying in Kirkmichael where I met some wonderful other marshals. Also, walking up on the Slieus (hills) nearby gave me an understanding of why people call views breathtaking – I think sometimes so much pleasure to the visual sense can make your heart stop for a split-second.
Back to Douglas 2018: Once the wind died down I joined lots of other people on the prom to inspect the storm damage. There’s a newsclip about the storm here . I must say they’re on the ball getting it cleaned and fixed up. I couldn’t believe how those huge slabs of concrete were shattered like china saucers by the sea:
The following weekend the weather was beautiful and I walked South past Douglas Head along the coastal walk. I’m cheating a bit and using some photos I took last year, that’s my Mum waking along the same path.
If you suffer from vertigo, don’t look down!
I arrived at Port Soderick , saw a sign for the station and thought what a pity it was that the steam trains don’t run in the winter – Silly Gilly, it’s spring now and the trains had started the day before. The next moment I heard the train whistle blowing …
… I followed the station signs, running, but the train was just pulling out of the station when I arrived. I waved at the guard, he stopped the train (!!!) and I hopped on. Where else in the world would they stop a train for you if you’re late?
I went for an urban walk on Friday and thought I’d drop an entry in the local paper cryptic crossword competition on the way. Look what arrived in my mailbox on Saturday morning:
…and this was in the paper the following week, Charlie is mockingly calling me a media something-or-other, I can’t remember the term.
Being St Patrick’s Day, I popped down to see my Irish friend Pauline at the Manx Legion club. She’d managed to surround herself with young leprechauns:
