Money

I've been thinking a lot about money recently. Most of the people with whom I socialise and interact are very comfortably off and enjoying the combined benefits of living and working for a well paying company in a low tax country (husband and I included). But not all.

Once a week I volunteer at a drop-in centre, Graih, for people who are homeless, living in insecure accommodation, or just generally marginalised. You wouldn't necessarily think that the Isle of Man has many people like this, and compared to London, it's not even close. But they are there. They are mostly unemployed and living off benefits. Many have addictions and other issues that they are fighting to keep at bay; some more successfully than others. The regulars that I see there weekly are a fascinating and entertaining bunch who have welcomed me and made me feel like part of the "gang". 

Some are loud and cheerful, who use their time resourcefully to take on odd-jobs, others are silent and wary, speaking only to request what food they want to eat. Some are fit, healthy and active whilst some fight constant health problems. A lot come to fight off the boredom that threatens to push them back to drink, or other habits. Some come soaked in alcohol - as did one regular the other week who simply sat at the table for 3 hours, and only moved to make himself a mustard and jalapeno sandwich - and I think it was those two fillings because they were the nearest items that his shaking arms could reach.

Mostly we sit and drink tea and have conversations that range from the banal to the controversial to the hilarious to the truly bizarre, but it's a refreshing and humbling place to be. There, more than anywhere else, am I acutely aware of how lucky we are to be in the situation we are in.

I was having a chat with one of my favourites, a lively lady of around 70 who was talking about a day trip she had taken recently. She mentioned that she had eaten a bag of chips and they were £2 a bag and how expensive that was - an opinion shared by the rest of the room. Someone else was telling me about how his job hunt was hampered because he couldn't afford the phone credit to make calls to employers and find jobs.

Two days later, I was in the pub with husband and some of his work colleagues. People were fishing out note after note of cash from their pockets and wagering it on, well, whatever random bet the next person could think of. The contrast between people who, quite literally, throw money at another person because they can afford to think in £100s and not really mind about the little change in between, and the people who have to come and eat free mustard and jalapeno sandwiches is staggering and hits me each week.* 

I'm not really sure how to end this post. Not with pleas to part with your money to charity nor with a lecture to always be grateful and take nothing for granted. 

More with the realisation that, although when I start a job I will be grateful for the extra money that I can contribute to our household and savings, a part of me will be truly sad to give up those Wednesdays because, as much fun as living this lifestyle can be, they are probably what best keeps me in touch with real life on this little bubble of an island.

*As a disclaimer: I'm not judging the upper end of the wage scale with any of these comments; merely using the example to make the contrast. The people who formed the basis of the example above are all bright, exceptionally hard-working and deserve their remuneration. Conversely, the guys at the drop-in generally don't feel sorry for themselves and don't make us volunteers feel sorry for them either.

The simple steps for registering a car

For this post, I thought I'd share about the process of getting a non-Manx car registered over here. Some of the pain is IOM government procedure and some is undoubtedly my own doing. But if it's painful reading, imagine the fun I've had living it.

Go to register car. Need road-worthiness approval certificate.

Apply for road-worthiness test. Fill out form, send back to test centre, await an appointment. 

Miraculously, car passes test. I'm not sure how because every time we start the car it seems that something else stops working optimally. Also the heater doesn't work so the windscreen fogs up every time it gets too warm or cold. The test takes all of 10 minutes so I'm not entirely convinced of its thoroughness, but car and I take the certificate and bolt.

Vehicle Licence Form ... need insurance certificate... 

Realise that not only do I not have the certificate, I have forgotten who I insured car with and all correspondence was sent to my old work address (ROOKIE MISTAKE). Consider whether it is illegal to have 2 insurance policies at the same time.

Attack filing in an attempt to find a record of it on a bank statement. Two hours later, find letter with insurer's details in one of many "organised piles".

Call insurers. Get through with minimal phone automation. Find out that they won't insure the car here.

Find new insurance. Discover "All cars may be insured with a valid IOM registration number". 

Head to post office to hand in Vehicle Registration Form. I'm asked for registration documents (was this form not said document?) and... insurance certificate. A pattern of unhelpful and inescapable circles is swiftly emerging. 

Be very jealous of new friend E, whose car failed the test, but which means she will just buy new car on island therefore simplifying process hugely.

I tell my plight of vicious circles. Helpful lady takes pity on me and gives me a registration number they will hold for 4/5 days or so, and tells me to go and sort the insurance out and then come back. Also with the documents that prove my ownership of the car - ah, THOSE registration documents. (Oh..uh, where are they?)

Call third insurance company. Get reasonable quote. Am not asked for registration number.

Return to now orderly filing, to search for car registration document. Search through various suitcases, files and drawers. A flash of inspiration leads me to check alternate handbag. Bingo. 

Now, all that remains is to hand everything in.... and then go through the rigmarole of changing my name for all of this...

Tour Guiding and TT racing

The roads are open once more, the bikers have headed home and TT is over for another year. My brother Dave came over to stay last week and timed his visit well with the racing week. If you've ever wondered what motorbikes racing past at speeds of around +150mph look like, then this is it...

This video is taken at the top of Bray Hill, just down from the grandstand where the riders start and finish. You'll notice the race wardens stay bike side of the race barriers....

Dave ready for the bikes to come along

Just a few of the many, many, many bikes parked along the prom for the last 2 weeks

Evening entertainment outside Bushy's beer tent. We're still not quite sure what the objective was, apart from circling around and making a lot of noise, but it was good entertainment!

This video is taken on Senior Race day, a bank holiday on the island, and this race is the main event. We were up near the Creg Ny Baa pub, has great views of the road coming down from the mountain road and then on towards Douglas. This is about 4/5 of the way round the course and thanks to the radio over the loudspeakers and tracking the helicopter, and obviously the increasing noise, we had a lot of notice of the bikes approaching. Bikes are going super speedy here!

Chilling out trackside... "sorry, what do you mean health and safety?"

Yes, it was sunny enough for sunglasses and T-shirts. Not for long, though.

As well as racing, Dave and I also went to explore Castletown, where we found a tardis-like castle and some exceptionally good ice cream. Castle Rushen was one of the last Royalist strongholds in the British Isles. The castle was the seat of the Viking Kings after they moved from Peel in 1250 and then the later Lords of Man. At the time of the Civil War, the Lord of Man was James Stanley who left the castle in his wife's hands so he could go and fight for the King. Unfortunately, he was beheaded in 1651 and, beset by doubters in her court and the onset of the Roundheads, Lady Man surrendered the castle fairly quickly after that.

Castle Rushen, and probably the most punters this pub will see all year

The view of Castletown harbour from the top of the tower

Exceptionally good, locally made ice cream - so much joy to behold!

The circus comes to town... hello TT

The Isle of Man is known for a few things - kippers, tail-less cats, having the world's oldest continuous parliament, wind - but the TT Races are really what it's all about. 

For 2 weeks in late May/early June the island comes alive to the sound of revs, throttles and speeding engines that signal (as the islanders and many fans will boast) the greatest motorcycle road race in the world. Around 40,000 people visit the island during TT - which means that IOM's population increases by around 50% for that time. The race is renowned across the world, as evidenced by finding TT paraphernalia in a bar in Peru on honeymoon,  and, when Husband and I went to Croatia this weekend, our first conversation with a Croatian (our taxi driver):

Taxi driver: So, where are you from?
Us: [Pause whilst we weigh up IOM, or the easier London]... umm, London, I guess
Taxi driver: Ahh. Can I ask, do you know Liverpool?
Us: Yes..
TD: Is it possible to get a ferry from Liverpool to the Isle of Man? I want to go to the TT...
Us: ... Well actually...

Flags and lights decorate the prom

Having only seen a few days of TT fever so far, it's obvious that this is what the island lives for... shops are open longer hours; there's a fairground being set up at the moment on the prom; there are people out and about beyond 8pm enjoying the atmosphere and having drinks in the bar marquee at the end of the prom; people queuing up to get a book signed by one of the racing heroes, or heading out for bike rides, or fixing them up parked outside of hotels...

This week, we're in qualifying, and with the races scheduled to start on Saturday, here are a few stats and figures about the races.

• The course is 37.73 miles in length, starts and finishes in Douglas.
• The course is the same as when it started in 1911. 
• It is raced on public roads, over mountains (ok, mountains for the IOM), and through tiny villages - even animals are moved out of fields after a particularly nasty incident one year involving a horse and a speeding motorbike. 
• There are several race categories but the main event, the Senior TT, takes place on the final afternoon and comprises 6 laps of the course.
• Riders can reach speeds of up to 200mph in some sections of the course. The fastest lap in 2013 was 17:12:30, with an average speed of 131.578mph.
• On average, 3 racers die each competition. Sad face.

Oh, and there are So. Many. Bikes. The photo I have below really doesn't show how many bikes there are around, but hopefully there will be more to come. Next week, my brother comes to town, so tomorrow's project is working out where the best viewing spots are...

Just a few of the bikes parked up along the prom

Enjoying a few evening drinks on the prom

Apparently, this dude is a big deal. (No relation).

Dy bannee diu & failt!

Dy bannee diu & failt!

Or, hello and welcome for those non-Manx speakers among you - of whom I suppose there are a few.

A few months ago, I moved to the Isle of Man because the husband took a job here. Well, technically, he moved - I came across on weekends and headed back to London to my job during the week. As much fun as spending half my life in Ronaldsway/Gatwick/City airport is, the time had come to finally come to put all my clothes in a cupboard, stash my suitcase under the bed and spend more than 48 hours a week with my recently acquired husband.

So, to keep me busy, encourage me to explore the island and discover all that's interesting and fun and worth doing, I've set up this blog to serve as an account of the transition from the helter-skelter that is London to island living on a decidedly more relaxed scale.

Hopefully this way you'll also be able to see what I'm up to and see how life works when there isn't a bus/tube/train every 5 minutes, you can't buy a pint of milk at 3 am but you can escape to the countryside in less than 10 minutes without the eye-inducing train fares or negotiating the M25.

Enjoy, and see you around.

Fi x