One thousand years ago or so, men came from the North. They landed in Peel and proceeded to rape and pillage the Island. I am sure that many of these Vikings were good and noble men, and in the passage of time it would appear that they probably brought more to the Island than they took. As a child I knew nothing of the Vikings. I had heard of them of course. But apart from a few boat loads of men running around the Island with horns on their hats, that was about as much as we kids knew, or wanted to know. Maybe that is why through the passage of time, a deep suspicion of folk from the North was deeply ingrained in to our souls.

The man from the North came into Castletown about once or twice a week. We kids didn’t know where he came from. He either got off a bus or was dropped in the town for whatever reason, around about the middle of the week and was probably a very decent chap; however we kids were deeply suspicious. We didn’t see many strangers in Castletown in those days. I don’t know where the phrase came from, the man from the North. My brother reckoned he had heard the man from the North had been to prison, although he didn’t know what for. It didn’t take us kids long though to decide that he was probably a murderer. Billy reckoned the man from the North was from somewhere very far away, another planet even. Micky had heard the man from the North was from a far away place called Ramsey. Whenever we came across the man from the North we crossed the road, and kept our distance. He had never done us any harm, and never even threatened to. It was all based on rumour and mystery. One morning we all sat on a bench at the bottom of Peggy Watterson’s Hill on the harbour. My brother and the rest of the gang decided to nip into the town for cakes and I was to remain on the bench until they returned. It wasn’t long before a man came along and sat beside me on the bench. Soon along came a second man and stopped at our bench, he slapped my bench companion on the back and shouted, “Well, how the hell’s the man from the North then!” “I’m fine,” said the man from the North. “How the hell is the mouth from the South?” I could not believe my ears. I was sitting next to the Man from the North on my own, a murderer, someone from another planet, or even Ramsey. After a brief chat the second man moved on, leaving me and the man from the North alone. My mind started to race, what on Earth was I going to do. With my hands clasped tightly around the wooden struts of the bench I braced myself for sitting it out until my brother and mates returned from the cake shop. The man from the North began to eat his sandwiches. “Would you like a sandwich son?” he asked in a low gentle voice! “No thanks” I replied, thinking it might be poisoned or something. The man from the North finished his sandwiches. “Would you like a bar of chocolate then lad?” “No thank you” I said. “Here then lad, give me your hand?” said the man from the North. I loosened my grip on the timber struts of the bench. The man from the North took hold of my hand and placed in my palm a two shilling peace. “There lad, you buy your own chocolate then with that!” The man from the North stood up and gave me a warm hug. Then, simply walked away and went about his business. My brother and mates were soon back with me again. They had returned sometime before the man from the North had gone, but didn’t want to come and join us. We spent the two shillings in Peggy’s toy shop and never lived in fear of the man from the North again. The fearful man from the North became a friend, a visit we looked forward too. There were many more sixpences, shillings and the odd two shilling peace thereafter.

I never got to know his name or anything about him. If the man from the North is still with us, here is a very special thank you to the man from the North, from a former child of the South.