Five Reasons To Grow Up In The Isle of Man

Intergrated into my general retrospective state of mind at the moment, here’s a list of reasons to enjoy growing up on the Isle of Man.

1. Peel Castle

Peel Castle

A friend recently called it the most tactile castle she’d ever visited. Because of all the open space inside, it’s brilliant for kids to run around. And then there’s all the ghost stories of the Moddey Dhoo (Black Dog) said to haunt the castle’s walls. One look at it will freeze your heart, killing you instantly…

2. Douglas Beach

My short story The Memory Room was based on my childhood memories of walking along Douglas Beach at low tide. An anecdote remembered by the narrator of The Mask Slips is set here as well. Lovely on a calm day (I’ve never known better sandcastle building sand - or a beach with more conveniently positioned pebbles to knock the sandcastles down again), and stunningly dramatic at high tide in storms, with waves lashing over the promenade at parked cars and hurling pebbles and sand at hotel windows on the opposite side of the road.

View from Onchan Park

3. The TT Races

How startlingly different the island became from the rest of the year! Hordes of bikers from all over the world descended on the island. The thrill of Mad Sunday, the excitement of trying not to get trapped inside the TT course before a race started and the fun of going with a group of mates to a good spot to watch the races (we generally plumped for Signpost Corner or Governor’s Bridge).

4. The Laxey Wheel

For me, it was more about the adventure of walking up to Laxey Wheel from the East, or down to it from the Western mountain road, down the valley and through the derelict miners’ buildings. It’s the largest wworking waterwheel in the world, and it looks great, all white washed and red painted.

5. The Fairy Bridge

Well, the stories of the Little People in general. We used to amuse ourselves by telling each other stories of the terrible vengeance the fairies would wreak on people who didn’t say, “Hello Fairies,” as they drove over the Fairy Bridge. The Headteacher of my primary school, Gordon Kniveton, wrote a book called The Manx Experience, and he used to tell us various Manx myths and legends. In general, the fairies were an impish lot, much given to wicked little pranks. But I can tell you this:

Once, a girl I never met or knew, and none of my friends ever met or knew, drove over the Fairy Bridge with her parents once, on the way to somewhere, and back over it again when she returned. Both times, she refused to say, “Hello Fairies.” Later that day, she went on a swing and broke both her legs - one for each time she failed to greet the fairies.

Tags: Isle of Man

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 18th, 2010 at 7:41 am and is filed under Short Story. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.