9.15am. I woke at around 3.30 this morning, and I note that the dawn chorus is now beginning led by Angus the song thrush at 4.21. Well at least it is a nice sunny day here and we have the whole summer ahead of us to look forward to. I have just read an email from South Australia where they are now approaching winter and have had to turn on their heating. Mind you, in South Australia, their idea of a cold snap is bazaar to say the least. Today is going to be an exciting day as I am expecting a visit from Wendy, a. blog reader from London who flew in last night, and after a heavy night’s drinking with her father Bob in Peel, she might manage to visit me later on this morning.

I have just returned from a little hike along the Silverburn. The cows are all grazing in the meadow on the left hand side of the river as you walk north towards Ballasalla. Poulson Park was empty, however, as it is a nice day, it is likely it will fill up with kids before very long.

Yesterday, I wrote of my night out in Douglas 30 years ago with Johnny. Those of you, who guessed that I was talking of Johnny Harding, are absolutely right. As are those who guessed that J.K. was in fact George Kewley in an earlier blog regarding emptying the coal boats in Castletown. Well yesterday I said I would tell you today about a trip I made to Wolverhampton back in the early 80’s.

At the time I was working the markets at Rushen Abbey and Port Erin. The guy I was working for used to bring in his wares from a warehouse in Wolverhampton. I decided that I would take a trip over to Wolverhampton with him one weekend to stock up, and meet the suppliers. I had never been Wolverhampton before apart from taking part in a swimming competition at school, in which I lost my two front teeth. Well over on the boat we went, and drove down to Wolverhampton. I had hardly taken a sip from my first pint, in the first pub we visited, when I got a tap on my shoulder. Ginger Jimmy had come to the Isle of Man about 10 years prior to my visit. He had only stayed on the Island for a few weeks on a building job. I had come to know him and shared a few pints with him in what was then known as the Duck’s Nest in Castltown. There he was minding his own business, in his own local, when that bloody ghost from ten years past, Tom Glassey, returned to haunt him. Many stories and pints later, I arrived back at my digs, collapsed in a heap and slept until the following morning. The following lunchtime I wandered into a pub in the centre of Wolverhampton. I sat and had a couple of quiet pints in the lounge bar. Having decided that the pub was just a little on the quiet side, I took my leave and headed down the road to seek somewhere a little busier. We shall try and find somewhere a little busier, I commented to my pal James whom I had travelled with. I don’t think we will find anywhere busier replied James. “Why ever not, I said, that pub was just about empty. “No, it wasn’t,” Said James. “In fact that pub was just about full!” It seems that at that time and possibly it is still the case today, the deaf and dumb folk in Wolverhampton all met up in the George hotel lounge bar on Sunday lunchtimes. I had sat amongst them whilst they had signed to each other, and I had been unaware of it. I suppose a totally blind man plonked in a pub full of deaf and dumb folk is never going to set the world on fire with laughter and general banter.

Well, on the 3^rd day I was sitting in another pub thinking about how I had come to Wolverhampton on a bit of a wing and a prayer and met up with Ginger Jimmy the 1^st night and then of course the next day I managed to walk into the only pub in town that is used by the deaf and dumb society of Wolverhampton when two young lads sat down and joined me. We chatted for a while and exchanged pints as you do. I told the lads where I was from and of course they had never heard of the Island. They were really a couple of Scallies. However, like most scallies they were extremely friendly and likeable lads. They asked if I would like to join them for a few beers that night. I declined; however, it seems they interpreted my reluctance to join them, due to me being skint. “Don’t worry about money Tom lad” They said. “We will do an ice cream van over tonight and take you out on the pi—with us”. Well, I never turned up at the agreed meeting place. So, I really don’t know how the ice cream van or the two boys faired that night.

Its now time for me to be on my way though. The parrot is singing his head off. Skipper is barking, and the sun is shining.

Until tomorrow then, this Tom Glassey with News at 10. On the banks of the Silverburn River.