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!!