When I was a child, sight fascinated me. I didn’t understand eye sight. It was almost like my mates had two lights in their heads, but they didn’t work in the dark. I remember one night, when I must have been about 7 or 8 years of age, asking my play mate, “How far can you see?” After getting no response, I followed up with, “Well, can you see the stars or, the moon?” “Yes”, he replied. “Well then” I said, “can you see Ballasalla?” “No” he replied. Ballasalla is a small village about 2 miles north of my home town Castletown and I remember thinking that night in my bed, “Why is it or how come, they can see things so far away like the moon, but they cant see Ballsalla”. Many years later, I was over in the UK in Bolton, Lancashire, training for a guide dog. They used to train about 8 of us at a time. During this time we would live in a hostel for about a month whilst the dogs got used to us. On occasions one of the instructors would take us out in a mini bus to spend an evening in one of the local pubs. The 8 blind students undergoing guide dog training were always very competitive regarding as to who was the blindest. They would spend a great deal of time arguing about how much sight other students had and whether they really were in need of a guide dog or not. On this occasion, Charlie had decided Colin had far too much sight and did not have need for a guide dog. As we set off one evening for our trip to the pub, Charlie and Colin took up the argument in the back of the bus. Phrases like “Its not a bloody guide dog you need, a pair of specs would be more appropriate”, could be heard from the back of the bus. As we piled out into the car park having arrived at the pub, the argument continued. Colin unfortunately decided to comment on the glorious full moon. Charlie grabbed the opportunity that had now been handed him on a plate. “So,” said Charlie, “You can see the moon can you?” “Yes,” said Colin. “Anyone could see the moon tonight, it’s a full one.” “Right,” said Charlie. “Well the moon is over a quarter of a million miles away and anyone that can see that far don’t need no guide dog”.

Today when I think of that question I asked as a child, “How far can you see?” I wonder just how many people gaze at the stars and sometimes don’t see the ground beneath their feet.

About 30 years ago, I promised a certain person who dwells in Castletown that I would buy them a pint the next time I see them. To this day whenever we meet, he still asks “What about that pint you promised me!” Even though I still reply, “the next time I see you!” He still mutters something like. “You say that every time!”

Well, if he ever gets his pint, it wont be just lung cancer I will be leaving in my wake. Isn’t it strange though how when someone really excels at something, like plays really well in a football match, we call it ‘playing a blinder’. As a kid I played football along with the rest of the kids. They even put matches into the ball so that I could hear it. I was always stuck in goal though. There is nothing that keeps a defence on its toes better than having a blind goalkeeper.

Finally, this true story has haunted both me and Willy Kneale ever since it took place some 35 years ago.

I guess it’s easy to forget your mate is blind, especially when they are sitting in the passenger seat of your works van. At that time Willy Kneale was working for Coleburns and had driven his van load of televisions to Castletown. He collected me at the Duck’s Nest pub and as he tried to reverse out of the car park, he leaned over and asked me if we were OK behind. I can see nothing Willy I replied, thinking he was joking. The sound of the telegraph pole grinding its way through the rear of Coleburns van makes me cringe to this day. When I think back to my 8 year old pay mate who couldn’t see Ballasalla from Castletown yet could see the moon and stars, he wasn’t doing so badly really. After all Willy couldn’t see a telegraph pole that was 2 yards away and, I have been crashing in to things all my life with no real harm done.

Tom Glassey news at 10.55 a.m. on the banks of the Silverburn River.