Wednesday July 23rd
Posted by TomGlassey, Yesterday, 05:28 AM
Well folks, this week will see the kids on holiday from the schools for the long summer holidays. As a kid, this time of year was pure magic for me. Just the idea of coming home from school in Liverpool for two whole months sent the blood pulsing through my veins. Long before my shoes touched the timber deck of the Isle of Man steamers, my head would be full of thoughts of the beach, Langness, romping along the Silverbur River, and chasing balls and tin cans during the evenings through Castletown’s narrow streets. On wet nights we didn’t argue about what channel to watch on the telly as there were only two channels, BBC and ITV, and as far as we kids were concerned, both were rubbish. We did listen to the wireless, but only at night time, to radio Luxembourg. Manx Radio didn’t exist, so how did we get our news or skeet? Well, I suppose we made most of it up. The rumour mill was going big time then. Jim Callaghan the former British Prime minister once said, “A lie is halfway round the World before the truth has got its boot on.” Well in our case in Castletown, a lie had circumnavigated the World three times before the truth had got out of bed. Most rumours began in the shops. Someone would tell a porkie in the butchers, forgive the pun, the lie would make its way over to the bakers, down the street to Kelly’s hardware shop, in to the post office, then back up the street and begin all over again. Each time someone would put a little extra spin on it. If it began in the butchers with how Mrs Quayle had slipped whist putting out the washing and scratched her nose, by the time the rumour had done the rounds, Mrs Quayle might well be on her way to Malew graveyard having committed suicide by flinging herself off the cliffs at Scarlett. The pub was also another ideal place to plant a rumour. I can tell you that Jesus is not the only person to rise from the dead. A lady in Castletown did this also back in the early 70’s. I recall one Friday night sitting in the Duck’s Nest, my local pub. Someone came in and told us that Maud had died. We all knew Maud; she was one of our locals. Of course we dug in to our pockets and raised a small amount in the collection that ensued. I recall vividly the hush that came over the busy pub on that Friday night as Maud walked in to the pub. Of course she noticed the pittance that was in the collection box so, feeling sorry for the poor devil we were collecting for; she placed a few pence in the box. Our relationship with Maud remained a little strained thereafter, once she realized the collection was for her. I’m not sure who it was that blabbed and let the cat out of the bag though. It was decided that we should all have a drink from the proceeds, but I think there was only enough for about one pint. Anyway I’m sure we will have more than made up for it when Maud finally did pass away, Well, I would like to think so!
I am going to finish now folks before I get in to any deeper trouble. I am of course Tom Glassey for news where time doesn’t matter, on the banks of the Silverburn River.
Tuesday July 22nd
Posted by TomGlassey, Jul 22 2008, 08:41 AM
I woke this morning at 2.45 a.m. and I have been awake since. Yes, it's going to be a long day. On the radio this morning I heard about a lady who has run around the world to raise money for cancer research and promote cancer awareness. She began her 20,000 mile round the block jog back in 2001. Today she passes through Carlisle and will finish in her home town in Wales later this week. She is doing all this because she lost her husband to cancer and couldn't stand the loneliness. I bet there are a few people out there who may have sponsored her for a pound a mile and might now be regretting it. What a brave lady she is, she certainly will be able to say forever more that she got up off her backside and did something about her plight. The story also reminded me of the lady from Leeds whose name eludes me at present. I know her first name was Jane, and she raised a fortune, running and cycling around Europe for cancer charities, before cancer itself finally killed her just a few months ago. These stories have made me ask myself, what I can do to assist mankind in this fight against this deadly disease. Well I doubt that I will be able to do anything as dramatic as run around the world. 20,000 miles is a hell of a walk for a guide dog, and if I tried to cycle across Europe I would probably cause more problems than I would be likely to resolve. None-the-less, my thinking cap is now on as I have been inspired by these wonderful people. I have no doubt that if they were politicians, they would be knighted, and probably become Lords and Ladies. However, the more likely outcome will be that they will appear on today's news, and then be confined to the archives. The lady who lost her husband to cancer and has now ran around the World, lost her husband because he did not report a lump early enough. Had he done so, he would probably still be with us today.
No one wants to be told they have cancer. I thought I might have cancer for quite a while before I confronted my problems by seeing a doctor. I probably would be dead now if it had not been for Barbara nagging me to go and see a doctor. Cancer usually begins its career by appearing as a small and seemingly insignificant lump somewhere, or in the case of lung cancer, a cough which just gets more and more persistent. In my case I began to start feeling breathless just carrying out my normal daily tasks. If you have developed any of these symptoms go and check them out now with your doctor. If you have a family member or friend, do whatever it takes to make them go and seek medical advice. You will probably save your life or maybe someone else by getting an early diagnosis. Now I usually try to finish with a little humour. So, just to reinforce my point regarding cancer beginning its life in a seemingly insignificant manner, here is a little story which demonstrates this point and comes to me courtesy of Marla in Los Angeles, USA.
A mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a package.
What food might this contain? The mouse wondered - he was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap.
Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning:
There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!
The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said, 'Mr.Mouse, I can tell this is grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me.'' I cannot be bothered by it.'
The mouse turned to the pig and told him, 'There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!'
The pig sympathized, but said, I am so very sorry, Mr. Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray.Be assured you are in my prayers.'
The mouse turned to the cow and said 'There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!'
The cow said, 'Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you, but it's no skin off my nose.'
So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's mousetrap alone.
That very night a sound was heard throughout the house -- like the sound of a mousetrap catching its prey.
The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught. The snake bit the farmer's wife. The farmer rushed her to the hospital, and she returned home with a fever.
Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main
Ingredient.
But his wife's sickness continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock.
To feed them, the farmer butchered the pig.
The farmer's wife did not get well; she died.
So many people came for her funeral, the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide enough meat for all of them.
The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness.
So, the next time you hear someone is facing a problem and think it doesn't concern you, remember -- when one of us is threatened, we are all at risk.
We are all involved in this journey called life. We must keep an eye out for one another and make an extra effort to encourage one another.
This is Tom Glassey with News from that timeless zone on the banks of the Silverburn River.
Monday July 21st
Posted by TomGlassey, Jul 21 2008, 10:37 AM
Good day folks. I begin today by saying a big hello and welcome to Pauline in South Carolina USA. Pauline has emailed me and has become the latest blog reader from the US. She left Castletown with her husband Mike when Castle Indurstries went to the States and I am not sure when that was. We almost have as many US readers now as we do Manxies. Mind you, Pauline is very much a Manxie. Not only is she from my home town of Castletown, but from the same housing estate on Janet’s Corner. America of course is a truly wonderful country, and we have much to be grateful to them for. I would not be sitting here writing this blog if it was not for the American computer buff who invented or created the software for me to be able to read a computer screen, and write on a computer keyboard. I would not be able to navigate my boat if it were not for the talking navigation system I use on board.
There are of course many other reasons I, and many others are indebted to the USA. Just after I had been diagnosed with cancer, a very kind person offered to pay for me to be sent to the US and be treated. I thanked them and declined the offer. I have no doubt that I would have received top class treatment in the US. However, America’s graveyards are not full of centenarians. If you believe that the grass is greener elsewhere, then you will probably always believe that, wherever you are and you will never find rest, or be at peace. America is a great country, if you are wealthy, and healthy. However, I think it is not quite so attractive if you are sick and poor.
I heard on the news this morning that because of rising fuel prices some people are having central heating oil nicked from their tanks, and coal from their bunkers. I recall an occasion back in the 60’s when I lived on Janet’s Corner. Someone had been swiping coal from our coal cellar. I decided to surprise my Dad and catch the culprit, so I stayed awake one night listening for a noise out the back although I think I must have nodded off. However on waking at around 3 in the morning, I could hear a noise out the back, so I dashed from my bed in a bid to nail the so and so. It was a windy night. I picked up a shovel at the back door and opened the door very quietly so as not to disturb the thief. I could hear a plastic bag rustling in the yard which I thought was the thief making off with our coal. I rushed at where the noise was coming from with shovel at the ready, only to crash head first in to the iron railings at the end of the yard that the plastic bag had been blowing up against in the wind. I am glad it was 3 in the morning. At least that meant that no one else had heard me shout. “Got ya, you bloody so and so!” as I rushed the rails with the shovel.
Well that’s it for today folks. I have been out walking this morning from Ronaldway to the waterfall and back. I will of course be back on station tomorrow. But for now, this is Tom Glassey with News where time doesn’t matter, on the banks of the Silverburn river.
Sunday July 20th
Posted by TomGlassey, Jul 20 2008, 01:08 PM
I woke up at 5.45 yesterday morning. I am starting wake up at my normal times once again. I also woke up feeling really good. For the first time since I finished with radiotherapy, I woke up with no pain whatsoever. I also ate a bacon sandwich for breakfast which is something I have not been able to do now for a couple of weeks. I walked Skipper along Castletown beach. We had a stiff Westerly breeze which the forecasters said would become a full Northwesterly gale by the afternoon. The beach was more or less deserted, well, at least by humans. There were not even many birds to speak off. I guess they are fully aware of the forthcoming gale and had taken shelter. Their brains and senses appear to be much more advanced than the MET’S computers. On reaching the far end of the beach just below Langness, I heard the mournful call of a solitary curlew. On my way back, a raven was enjoying his breakfast amongst the seaweed in a rock pool raven restaurant up on the foreshore. With the entire beach to himself, Skipper bounced around from pool to pool in wild doggy delirium. The tide had about two hours flood on it which meant there was a vast amount of sandy beach for us to explore. I say explore because although I have walked on this beach for over 50 years now, every trip to the beach is different. The beach is washed twice a day by the tide, and those tides are fanned by at least 20 to 30 gales a year. Between the storms and tides, they have filled the beach with garbage and swept it clean since the beginning of time. Yes I know we have several beach cleans by humans from time to time; however, we are only cleaning up what other humans have put there.
Well, after my trip to the beach, I sat in my office feeling rather smug. For the first time since February, I am feeling free from the clutches of cancer. I might not be of course. This might just be a little respite, I can’t be sure of anything. What I do know is that I am feeling better than I have done for a very long time. I must go by what I actually feel like and not necessarily by what some computer screen tells a doctor. My lungs feel free and are breathing easily without effort.
Soon after I was told I had cancer, I recall writing on the blog that I didn’t know what positives would come out of cancer and I would probably have to wait and see. Well I can tell you there are positives even in cancer. If you are lucky enough to come through your treatment there certainly is light at the end of the cancer tunnel. Firstly you become much more appreciative of all the things you once took for granted. Having the ability to walk down your garden without getting out of breath, being able to walk the dog again, the every day sounds that surround you like the birds, the stream, the wind in your face and children playing, yes, and even the sound of traffic, all these things sound a whole lot sweeter than they did before. Your friends and family now mean so much more to you. Last winter I remember sitting in the house one Saturday afternoon listening to a football match and thinking to myself, what I will do when the football season ends on Saturday afternoons. Good job I didn’t know I would be busy dealing with cancer. So, I am not even going to wonder what is it I will do once the boating season finishes in September. Having cancer has taught me to be grateful if I reach September.
That just about concludes our blog for today. I will of course be back on the blog on Monday all being well. This is of course Tom Glassey with News in that timeless zone on the Silverburn River.
Saturday July 19th
Posted by TomGlassey, Jul 19 2008, 05:59 AM
Last February when I first began writing this blog which was just after I had been diagnosed with lung cancer, I was unaware that an American lawyer was also suffering a similar fate. Some of my blogs have found their way across the Atlantic and hopefully have played a small part in aiding her recovery. As far as I know she is still going through the various stages of chemotherapy. She is updating everyone by keeping a thread going. Well I am not exactly sure what a thread is, but it seems it is something similar to a blog only its appears to be a two way thing. Barbara is keeping tabs on this venture. Isn’t it strange though when you tap out your blog each day, you simply have absolutely no idea of where it is going to go, or who it might impact on or affect. Ploughing through her thread last night, I noticed she had used the phrase “Why me,” several times. I guess every one of us have at some point or other asked “Why me.” I am glad it was me that was hit by lung cancer, simply because I think you worry more about other people than you do about yourself. When it someone else that is suffering with a terrible disease there is not much you can do about it only stand by and watch and utter words of comfort, when its you, you can actually do something about it, you can fight against it, and even if you don’t have the strength to fight, you can still console yourself that it is you that is suffering, and not someone you love. So, why not say. “Thank God it is me, and not my wife, son, daughter or whoever.” Strangely enough we never say why me when something good happens, like a lottery win, or we get a job promotion. Its only when something negative happens. You know, the next time you feel like saying why me, think of a graveyard, and if you were to be able to read all the inscriptions on the headstones, you would never find the words “Why me” and you can’t be more sick than dead.
We did not have a gathering this Friday, I’m just not quite up to it just yet, but it won’t be long before the gatherings are back in full swing once again. The forecast is not good for this weekend either so it doesn’t look like I am going to get out in the boat either. Well whatever you have planned for the weekend, I hope you enjoy. I will be back bashing away at the keyboard on Monday.
Until then, this is Tom Glassey with News in a timeless zone on the banks of the Silverburn.
Friday July 18th
Posted by TomGlassey, Jul 17 2008, 05:00 PM
I woke up this morning at 5.45. The rain was hammering down then and that is still the case and the time is now 9 a.m. I have not walked Skipper yet as I am hoping the rain will take a rest soon. However, Manx rain is pretty fit and has lots of stamina. Today I am tired before I have even done anything. Since returning home from treatment I have noticed that I tire easily these days. I am usually all in after a moderate walk of about 2 miles or so. At present I have done nothing at all and yet I am tired. I know though that I must pull myself together and walk Skipper before giving in and lying down again. I will feel better once I have done something, I just don’t feel as guilty having a lie once I have walked or pottered about doing small jobs around the house. Sleep like money, will all the sweeter be when it has been earned. Today is going to be a first for me and Barbara. Later this afternoon we will visit the prison. Neither of us has ever visited a prison before. We had a young lad we will call Martin working for us. He only came about once a week, and tidy up the garden, swept out path and washed down the decking. He was and hopefully still is a very agreeable young lad. Nothing was ever too much trouble for him, and he did whatever we asked of him. He even used to take me out on my tandem. I don’t know what on Earth happened to Martin once he left us, but it seems he became a totally different boy. He is now on remand for a series of offences and generally behaving like a right little toe rag. It is difficult to believe that this quiet, extremely obliging young man that turned up to do work for us every week, keeps pressing the self destruct button on such a regular basis. The police say that when they arrest him he is so co-operative and well mannered; they are at a complete loss to understand what it is that is driving him. I doubt that I will be any the wiser after my visit today, and I am sure it won’t be a pleasant experience for either of us. Anyway I shall report tomorrow on how we get on. The rain has now stopped so we shall now take Skipper for his morning walk.
I have now returned from the morning walk. The rain held off until we got out of the car and walked through the gate, then started again in earnest. The ground along the banks of the Silverburn is soggy and the long grass is wet. The rain has a south-westerly stiff breeze to assist it in making your walk as uncomfortable as possible. I will now have a half hour sleep as I have now earned it. Okay, my half hour turned in to an hour, but I now feel much getter.
I am writing Fridays blog as Thursday unfolds. It will in fact be Friday when you read this. It is now 5.40 p.m and I have just returned home from the prison and walking Skipper. I was told by the prison to arrive 10 minutes before my visit time which was 2.45. We arrived on time and once the locked doors were opened and we passed through, we were taken into another room and asked to place all our possessions in a locker. This included my hankie, wallet, mobile phone, and even my hat. We then passed through to the visiting room. This is a medium sized room with about 12 tables. The prisoner sits on one side and you on the other. Martin seems in good spirits. He told me he had had plenty of time to think about things and promised me he would never be back here again. Well, I hope not but at present I can’t be sure of that. I get the impression that whatever young Martin is today, he might well be someone else tomorrow. He does have a girlfriend, and she has been to visit him so he does have a certain amount of stability in his life, and more importantly something to work for and above all, hope. I really do hope he pulls himself together and we will do whatever we can to assist him with this. I have asked him to make me a lighthouse with matches. Making items from matches it seems is part of the therapy in there. We will visit Martin again soon.
Well folks, this just about concludes my day today. I shall now have tea, a pair of Moore’s kippers, and chill out for a while, before retiring to bed.
Until tomorrow then people, this is Tom Glassey with News where time doesn’t matter, on the banks of the Silverburn.
Thursday July 17th
Posted by TomGlassey, Jul 17 2008, 05:23 AM
On Monday evening we drove to Ronaldsway Halt along with Skipper. After crossing the railway line and passing through the gate on the river side of the crossing, we headed for the little wooden foot bridge that spans the Silverburn a few yards up river from the railway crossing. We crossed the bridge and I sat on the steps while Barbara and Skipper foraged deep in to the meadow. There was a breeze from the southwest that made the wheat on the meadow side of the river make a sort of fizzing sound. Beneath the bridge the Silverburn tumbled over the stones as it meandered its way to Castletown harbour a couple of miles to the southwest. Every so often Skipper came bouncing through the long grass as if he were checking that I hadn’t moved on without him. He seemed torn between Barbara in the meadow and me sitting on the bridge. A couple of ducks flew over head quacking as they passed, no doubt heading south to my own garden where they would be fed had we been there. They would wait though until we got back. They are well schooled now and when Barbara walks down to feed every evening at around teatime, the sound of our garden gate serves as a feeding bell for over 100 ducks, geese and swans to gather at the feeding station, which is at the bottom of our garden on the Silverburn. From somewhere within the meadow in front of me, a pheasant called out. Behind me a gathering of chaffinches chatted amongst each other. A half mile to my left a heard of cows were munching on the rich pasture. The deep throated moo, the chatter of the chaffinches, the quack of the ducks, the pheasants, the wind blowing through the wheat, the steam train in the distance clattering its way to Port St Mary, and the noise of the water rippling over the stones all sounded as though there was a conductor somewhere up in the sky organizing the whole thing, waving his/her baton and everyone knowing their part and joining in with perfect timing. I sat there on the bridge and I thought to myself, ‘Yes, wasn’t all this worth fighting for’. This is what it has been all about. Cancer was never going to take these things from me. Barbara and Skipper had blended in to the landscape. They were now part of the meadow. The meadow and everything that was now in it was everything to me. It was as though I had just emerged from a dark tunnel, and had now stepped out into a fairytale. But this was no fairytale, what was happening was real. This meadow was not a figment of my imagination. I have fought like a demon, and will continue to fight. Life is worth fighting for, and everything and everyone you love is your reward. I am a soldier fighting against cancer. Some of my allies have fallen fighting the cause. I must fight on, not just for me, but for them as well, and for the folks they have left behind. Good does emerge from cancer though. It teaches you not to take what you have for granted, and more importantly to fight for what you have and to fully appreciate it. When you rise from your sick bed after cancer treatment, the birds sing that much sweeter, the air you breathe is that much purer. The river, the sea, and the meadows I roamed before are now so much more special to me. I wake each morning, and I am grateful. At the end of each day, I sleep easy because I too am now part of that wonderful meadow, and I can see the conductor’s baton clearly now where before it was just a haze. Yes, there are positives, even in cancer. All is well people.
This is Tom Glassey with News at where time does not matter, on the banks of the Silverburn river.
Wednesday July 16th
Posted by TomGlassey, Jul 16 2008, 07:26 AM
One day last February I was sitting in the doctor’s surgery in Port Erin. I had already been diagnosed with cancer and life in general did not look to wonderful. While I was waiting a lady came over to talk to Barbara and I. She was a friend we used to drink with in the Sidings in my days of frequenting public houses. She said how sorry she was to hear of my situation. Her only problem that day was how to make ice-cream in her ice-cream maker without most of it sticking to the sides. I can’t remember whether Barbara sorted her ice-cream problem out but I am deeply saddened today to learn that that same lady is presently in the Royal hospital in Liverpool with leukaemia. Back in February she was feeling sorry for me and trying to sort-out her ice-cream making machine for her kids that night. The poor lady did not know what lay ahead of her. Does this not make you feel grateful for today? Don’t take tomorrow for granted. Do whatever you can today, for tomorrow only becomes yours when it becomes today.
I have just returned from my evening jaunt with Barbara and Skipper to Ronaldsway Halt; thank you train driver for blowing your whistle just as I was about to open the gate to cross the line. Normally I can hear the steam train coming from miles away. This morning at Ronaldsway I heard the train leaving Castletown station. However, this afternoon I was just about to open the gate when the train appeared from nowhere. He blew his whistle but I’m not sure if that was because he saw me opening the gate or he was just bored and blew his whistle anyway.
It is now time now to say good luck to Geordie and Margaret Adamson. Geordie was the lighthouse keeper at Douglas head and at the Calf of Man. He is now retired and tomorrow Geordie and his wife Margaret are heading up to the Orkney Islands, the land of their birth. For the next month or so he will be swapping old Spanish head for the old man of Hoy. For our overseas readers, the old man of Hoy is the highest cliff in the UK at 1100 feet high on the Isle of Hoy in the Orkney Islands which are just a few miles north of Scotland. Talking of old men, I remember once when I was a small boy, walking down the road towards the beach in Castletown, I met old Mr.Quayle. He was pushing a wheel barrow with a lawnmower in it. He stopped to talk with me and I remember thinking to myself, it will be a very long time before I am as old as Mr Quayle. Now, I am not so far behind him and will be lucky if I reach the age he did. Eileen Harper, a blog reader who is a friend and neighbour from across the road, sent me this poem called ‘A crabby old man’. I can relate to it, especially after my recent trips to hospitals.
Until tomorrow folks this is Tom Glassey with News at oh, hell left my watch downstairs. Anyway I am still on the banks of the Silverburn river.
P.S. I have just learned that the lady with leukaemia I spoke of earlier in the blog, has just died. I am so lucky and grateful to be sitting here writing this blog. Others are not so lucky, and cancer doesn’t care who we are, how old we are or who relies on us. It just strikes, and sometimes with devastating effect. Just to reinforce what I said earlier about not taking tomorrow for granted. I began this blog with a smile on my face, and I finish it with eyes full of tears. That is how things can change in the 15 minutes it has taken me to write this blog, let alone a day.
I conclude with the poem “The crabby old man” not because it has any relevants to my departed friend but simply because it teaches us not only what to look for in folk, but also how to look.
Crabby Old Man
What do you see nurses? . . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . . . . with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food . . . . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . . the things that you do .
And forever is losing . . . . . . . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . . . . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding the long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . . you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding . . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . . . . . . . with a father and mother
Brothers and sisters . . . . . . . . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . . . a lover he'll meet
A groom soon at Twenty . my heart gives a leap
Remembering, the vows . . . . . . that I promised to keep
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . . . . . . I have young of my own
Who need me to guide . . . . And a secure happy home
A man of Thirty . . . . . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . . . With ties that should last
At Forty, my young sons . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me . . . . . . . to see I don't mourn
At Fifty, once more, . Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . . . My loved one and me .
Dark days are upon me . . My wife is now dead .
I look at the future . . . . . . . . . . . . I shudder with dread .
For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own .
And I think of the years . . . . . . And the love that I've known .
I'm now an old man . . . . . . . . . and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . . . . . . grace and vigor depart
There is now a stone . . . . . . . . where I once had a heart
But inside this old carcass . . A young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . . . . . . . I remember the pain .
And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . . . . . . life over again .
I think of the years all too few . . . . . . gone too fast .
And accept the stark fact . . . . . . . that nothing can last .
So open your eyes, people . . . . . . . open and see..
Not a crabby old man . Look closer . . . . see . . . . . . ME!!
Tuesday July 15th
Posted by TomGlassey, Jul 15 2008, 08:02 AM
Good morning folks. It is just a tad on the wild side today, a stiff wind is blowing from the Northwest and high tide tonight at about 10.30 which means no fishing for me tonight. Well I am not really sure if I am up to fishing just yet. I think I just might struggle a little getting on and off the boat. However, another 24 hours and I will be even better than I am now. It is now 8 a.m and as of yet, I have neither breakfasted nor taken Skipper for his morning bounce along the Silverburn. I will probably do both in the middle writing this blog.
Thank you to Mairead who replied to my request for silly notices and news items that seem to be cropping up lately. Mairaid emailed to tell me that on Manx Radio’s news on Monday they reported that thieves had broken into the bike and toy shed at St.Thomas’s school and disturbed the bikes and toys. I turned my radio on at 1 p.m yesterday and yes, that is exactly what they said. How dare a bunch of thieves break into the bike shed and disturb the bikes and toys from their afternoon nap! Also Pam Allan emailed me from Middlesburough to say she spotted a notice which says “Thank you for noticing this new notice.”
This morning I am going to have to hang around for the postman. I am expecting a small parcel from the US. They called with it yesterday, but for whatever reason they thought I wasn’t in. I was but I didn’t hear any bell ring or door knock. Anyway we shall try again today. I wonder just how many people are going to be effected by what the postman brings today. Some I guess will discover they have a new job with much brighter prospects. Someone will be depressed because they have been turned down for a new job. Some will receive wealth and others just bloody bills. Whatever, many people’s lives will drastically change as a result of what the postman brings today. The postman probably changes or has a more profound effect on people’s lives than anyone else. I spent a brief period myself as a postman. It was during my time at the Royal Bank of Scotland. When they moved the bank’s switchboard to Jersey, I found myself with nothing to do. The bank didn’t seem to want to make me redundant so I was left to sort out myself. I invented the job of postman. It simply meant that 5 times a day I went up to the post room, gathered up the post and delivered it around the bank. I even went down to the post office and got myself a postbag so that I looked the real deal. One Christmas a mate of mine called in to the bank to see if I wanted a lift home. “Yes” I said “but I’ll just finish my round”. I finished my round and couldn’t be bothered putting my bag away on the top floor of the bank, so I just left the bank with the bag around my neck. On the way out someone gave me a bottle of whisky which I just shoved in the top of the bag with the neck of the bottle sticking out. My mate David had to collect something from a shop on Strand Street, so I waited outside the shop for him with the postbag around my neck and the bottle whisky sticking out of the top. I also had a white stick. Of course Strand Street was busy as it was Christmas Eve. As a postman I must have had a profound effect on one chap because, as he walked by I heard him say to his mate, “Bloody hell that does it for me, its no wonder all our flaming post is going astray, the post office have taken on a blind chap now, and he is on the bottle!”
Well folks, with that I will big you all farewell as it is now time for me, Babs and Skipper to head off to Ronaldsway Halt for our wander along the banks of the Silverburn River. I have always fancied walking the Silverburn River from its source to its mouth at Castletown harbour. I wonder if we could get this going and make it a sponsored walk for a charity. Let me know what you think and we will get on to it.
Bye for now though people, this is Tom Glassey with News at 8.30, on the banks of the Silverburn River.
PS, thankyou to Marla in Los Angeles for your email, I will be in touch with you shortly.