steven !

Aye, I'll say it - "you would say that". By the way John, did you ever have a professional working relationship with a conveyancing clerk who used to do a few conveyancing foreigners on the cheap. His greed for a bit of easy cash in hand has ruined a few lives years later, or rather the greed of the people who used him to do their cheap and cheerful conveyancing.

I'd be interested to chat about your experiences paswt. Yes, Deemster Kerruish was known to be fair enough with litigants. The advocates managed somehow to get him to recuse in our case and so open the door for the dodgy deemster to take control, with I should imagine sighs of relief on Athol Street. And, I am sure, a few sighs of relief from the same when he died. It is amazing how the advocates' demeanour changes when it is one of their own type - a pal no doubt - on the bench.

A reasonable comment. But this is the Isle of Man. You will be like lambs to the slaughter. Well, not slaughter, that is relatively humane. More like a pack of dogs that play about with the prey before killing and eating it. Or is it snakes that do that? Oh and from what I have seen, the deemster will likely take the greatest delight in all the fun.

I went for legal advice on a matter and was told in writing that the matter would cost £2,500 - £5,000 . We could just about manage that and all things considered went ahead. Suckererd....... By the time that advocate's charges came to over £9,000 there was still no court date in sight. You're an odds on bet for putting your name down for a right shafting as soon as you walk through a Manx Advocate's door.

I second that, Patrick. irishone, your interview and words on BBC Radio 4 came over very well and I thought very touching. The Island must not forget what happened on that dreadful night, and there needs to be a proper memorial. If you ever come over again I am sure that there are people on the Island and on this forum who will be pleased to meet you.

Hi Tom Having read your book, I realise that the convent you attended was well intended and whereas perhaps not ideal, it was probably not as bad as some. Not too long ago I watched a film on Channel 4. The Magdalene Sisters. I wrote in my blog at the time: "A powerful and moving story with more than a little moral hypocrisy. Apparently based on real life. I watched it right through to the last credit . . . . . totally captivated and shocked". I write this only because coincident with your own blog today, the film was repeated this evening on Channel 4. Obviously I appreciate that you don't bother with TV much if at all, but because this was a particularly well made film, I wondered how you would have related to it, I wondered what you would have thought.

I'd like to add a comment myself: Four decades, it isn't a long time you know.

I thought Albert Tatlock was still incognito, even after his 'appearance' at the mf do! ________ I saw Grant up at the grandstand, or rather he saw me!

Apologies. No offence meant. As I mentioned, last night the music was top notch and a great atmosphere. Staff friendly and efficient (especially Julie - I bet she's glad she moved from the Rovers now!). I always enjoyed the pub in the old Wheatsheaf days too. The Cornerhouse will hopefully take over as the place for live music.

With quite a few changes happening just now I thought it might be useful to have a thread to keep up-to-date with the pubs, and not just regarding the smoking ban either, although that has certainly made an impact. The Prospect - after 3 or 4 years Melanie and Co. have been decanted to The British as of last Monday. The Prospect seems like it will now need to build up its base clientele again, with some of the die hard regulars following their favourite jockenese manageress to the North Quay. This evening The British seems to have assumed an altogether much needed up beat atmosphere with the arrival of the new management. The recent (again, as of last Monday) removal of Earle and all the staff from the Island's favourite live bands venue The Rovers Return has shocked many. The impact on the music scene is pretty well documented on the manxbands.co.uk forum thread. It seems that The Rovers will be undergoing a few changes shortly. Experience the al' place while you can. Only plus point - what a blessing to have the surly bouncers removed too. The Cornerhouse is as much a corner of Pulrose as it ever was, despite the brewery trying to posh it up 10 years or so ago. Tonight the dj music was top notch and a great atmosphere all round. I still had a few flashbacks of The Wheatsheaf and the pool room though... The Bowling Green has, er, had a sort of makeover. I can't really say much more. The smell of fresh paint is almost preferable to the smell of stale ciggie smoke. The Victoria Tavern, with mine host Macaleer, on Victoria Street. The Cork and Bottle as was. It would appear that the prices of the excellent kept beer have been highly elevated and the decor subdued to target the 'professions', although there are some that refuse to accept that The Irish Embassy has been moved elsewhere. The Saddle needs to be experienced to be believed. A place to take a lady providing she enjoys the smell of stale swetty feet. It was always like that. We just never realised before with all the nicotine encrusted walls and people. I would have loved to include the most archetypal of traditional Manx pubs, The Waterloo as a visit on my way home tonight, but this thread is just a couple of weeks too late. Gone but not forgotten. Over to you.

At this time, I hope the story isn't inappropriate, Barbara. It is rather pessimistic. The story is very real and I was surprised to find that part of it was used in a recent brochure for Robert Owen House (a marvellous place and charity btw) It reminds me of another time when I lived in Shetland about 12 years ago, shortly before I came back home. I knew someone who was diagnosed with lung cancer and I often wondered what happened to him. I went back last year and caught up with various news. They are very charitable in Shetland, and similar to the Isle of Man generally quite wealthy, although because of the Oil Industry rather than the Finance Industry. Various fund-raising events had been organised for the chap and a very sizeable sum was amounted. It was easily enough to send the lad to Florida for a super holiday. A mate's girlfriend, who was much involved with the fund-raising, went with him as an escort. He never came back. Mind you neither did she. Apparently he made a miraculous recovery as soon as he landed and ran off with the girl and the money. Never to be seen again, well certainly not in Shetland anyway. ps My forum name is steven ! Steven (without the exclamation) is a different person.

I suppose reading Tom Glassey's blog, I remembered my visits (as an escort not a patient) to the Cardiothoracic Centre in Broadgreen, Liverpool. Broadgreen Hospital. Christmas 2003. Robert Owen House. Me and a house full of women. They were all well into their 60s except one who was around 30 and more than 10 years younger than myself. We got on. Her partner was in intensive care. "A split aorta. Brought about from too much smoking and partying". She was quite frank and open about that. I think she was too quick and ready with the answer, as if she had become too used to it by now. Although I don't remember me actually ever asking the question. She went to visit him one evening and I never saw her again. Unusually, no one else in the House was from the Isle of Man. I had been there before, accompanying my mother for various tests and operations, so I knew the form. This time was the big one though - a triple heart by-pass. The others were staying in the House whilst their husbands received treatment of one kind or another, just a hundred yards or so away. For some, things were not looking too good. We were all sat in front of the television. Coronation Street or was it Crossroads? Not one word of the wooden dialogue was sinking in. "Where are you from?" one lady asked me, in an attempt to break the silence and spark conversation, perhaps escape the collective thoughts for a moment. I replied "The Isle of Man . . . . . and you?" "Well, I grew up in Liverpool but we have moved over to The Wirral now" Other than football, I know nothing of the city and all I could think of was The Beetles. I felt like an enthusiastic American tourist as I asked her if she had ever seen them. Her reply surprised me: "Oh yes, many a time, as a teenager we often used to visit the Cavern in our lunch hour". And that was it! Suddenly the atmosphere changed as the company, all strangers to each other until now, excitedly joined in the conversation. It turned out that the ladies were all from the area and during the early 1960s they had worked in various Liverpool city insurance offices and banks. They had more or less grown up with the Beetles and the Mersey Beat bands of the era. And so for the next half hour or so, I felt privileged to listen to the reminiscences as they re-lived the years of their teenage and early 20s. Who was their favourite Beetle and why? Yep, they knew them personally alright. It wasn't just the music but the latest fashions, the politicians, the scandals, the wonder of television, Habitat, train travel and the Modern Art movement. The conversations were spontaneous and the scene would have made an excellent television documentary. A snapshot of being a teenager in the 1960s. The room seemed to explode as so many wonderful stories came out from the time when these women were all young and carefree and living those exciting years. For those too brief minutes they were laughing teenage girls again. And then suddenly the reality of the present, four decades later, struck the room like a big black cloud. One by one they said their cheerios and left, as visiting time arrived. I was left in the room with just the one lady. Her mind focussed well beyond the television as her eyes gently watered. There was no visiting time for her as her husband was at that moment in the operating theatre. "I went to the Isle of Man a couple of times when I was 19. Port St Mary." She waited. I listened to the short silence. I was hoping for a bit of history. Perhaps I would know people she had known and it was clear that she had met someone special from the Island all those years ago. I wanted to know more. "I didn't go back again" she said, "I married a Doctor from home instead." I wasn't sure just what to say but it seemed she was just going back over a few points in her life. Anyway she looked at me to see if I wanted to know more, or if I was even interested. I was of course and glad to be there, allowing her thoughts to flow. "This was supposed to be our time." She said sadly. It turned out that she had married in her early twenties and had had her family in the first few years. She had devoted her life to her children and by the time they had left home and had families of their own, it was time to look after her parents, and then her husband's parents. She had made sure they were cared for and looked after, and it seemed that this was a particularly stressful time of her life. Eventually the parents died. Together with her husband, after giving their lives to others, they could now finally relax for once and look forward to the rest of their lives together. This had been just a few months previously. "This was supposed to be our time," she said again. Some weeks ago her husband had gone to the doctor with chest pains. It was lung cancer and he had been given just months to live. I looked at her. I gave her my best dead pan look. Perhaps some questions can't be hidden. "No," she said "He never smoked a cigarette in his life."

Tom That is a strong and very stark piece of writing. My thoughts are with you.

I'm not sure if this counts, but I think I might have possibly seen a moderator in the paper today. . . . ! (and another one on Border TV the other week but I'm sure that has been picked up already!)

I think Steven (no relation or connection with myself whatsoever as far as is known) was alluding to the chemical concoction of some of the manufactured ciders available. This can amount to a chemical addiction rather than to a traditional alcohol addiction. It might be suggested that the manufacturers of drinks such as these chemical ciders have an obvious vested interest in selling more and more and more of their wares. Hence the possibility of addictive (albeit currently legal) chemicals being an ingredient. On a similar related subject, I am led to believe that a certain brand of bottled brown ale, after carrying out extensive market research, had an added ingredient that was quite legal and the only effect it had was to give a headache the following day. This ensured at least some sign of a hangover. You see, the type of people who drank this brown ale apparently weren't satisfied they had had a good night out unless there was a hangover the following day. The hangover and the associated companionship of discussing and comparing your illness with your workmates etc. the following day was all part and parcel of the drinking process. Me a conspiracy theorist? Nevvvver.