121. The Isle of Man - my 100th Country - and a 1955 family holiday.

Douglas, Isle of Man (contemporary photo: The Guardian)

On the 13th December 2014 a reader in the Isle of Man brought the number of countries in which my blog has been read to 100.

Here is the full list:

Afghanistan, Algeria, Argentina, Australia, Azerbaijan, Bahrain, Bangladesh, Belarus, Belgium, Brazil, Brunei, Bulgaria, Cambodia, Canada, Chile, China, Colombia, Croatia, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Egypt, Estonia, Ethiopia, Finland, France, French Polynesia, Georgia, Germany, Gibraltar, Greece, Hong Kong, Hungary, Iceland, India, Indonesia, Iran, Iraq, Ireland, Isle of Man, Israel, Italy, Japan, Jersey, Kazakhstan, Kenya, Kuwait, Latvia, Lebanon, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Macau, Macedonia, Malaysia, Mexico, Mongolia, Morocco, Nepal, Netherlands, New Caledonia, New Zealand, Nicaragua, Nigeria, Norway, Papua and New Guinea, Paraguay, Pakistan, Peru, Philippines, Poland, Portugal, Qatar, Romania, Russia, Saudi Arabia, Serbia, Singapore, Slovenia, Slovakia, South Africa, South Korea, Spain, Sri Lanka, Sweden, Switzerland, Taiwan, Tanzania, Thailand, Tonga, Tunisia, Turkey, Ukraine, United Arab Emirates, United Kingdom, United States of America, Uruguay, Venezuela, Vietnam, Zambia.

I have been to thirty-one of these countries in person including the Isle of Man. This was on a family holiday in 1955 a week or so before I turned fifteen. Dad would have been 49, Mum 45, Elizabeth 17, Ruth 6 and Stuart 4.

I remember a number of things about our Manx holiday.

1950s Poster

We traveled by ferry from Liverpool to Port Douglas and by taxi from Port Douglas through Peel to Kirk Michael where we had rented a house. All the way in the taxi the driver pointed out each notorious corner and named the motorcyclist who had been killed there in one of the world's deadliest races, the annual Manx Grand Prix for which the island is famous. The Grand Prix was raced at high speeds on narrow, twisting streets, roads and lanes flanked by stone walls and buildings with around 200 corners to be negotiated at speeds varying from 130mph to 5mph. Rain and fog could also add to the dangers. 245 riders have been killed in the TT and Grand Prix races, the first an Englishman, Victor Surridge, during practice in 1911, the most recent another Englishman, Gary Firth, on the 29th August 2014, one of 5 deaths this year. There were two deaths in 1955, one in practice and one in the 350cc race.

The 1955 Grand Prix ran from the 4th to the 10th of June. In the days leading up to the main races there were early morning practice laps with bikes roaring through Kirk Michael from around 6am. We were staying only a short walk from the main road so Dad and I would get up to watch the action by standing on the corner of our lane. We tried to keep a track of the lap times of our favourite riders, chief among them Geoff Duke who won the 500cc race that year and recorded the fastest lap time of 22 minutes 39 seconds, an average speed of 99.97mph.

Geoff Duke, Isle of Man Grand Prix 1955

Searching for information on Google about the 1955 Manx Grand Prix I came across the story of Fred Cook from Stratford in Taranaki who also rode in that race. When they arrived on the island their manager drove them around the course and gave them a running commentary: "He was saying, 'This is where Les Graham got killed. Someone else got killed here. See that pole? So and so died when he hit that.' It was what you'd call a demoralising ride! But we weren't too put off." In the 350cc race Fred Cook 'got into a Granddaddy of all slides! The walls were rushing up at me!' He decided to pull his head in a bit and finished the race safely in 27th place. In the 500cc race he finished 18th at an average speed of 88mph.

The New Zealand Team to race at the Isle of Man Tourist Trophy in 1955 (source: pukeariki.com)

Fred Cook racing in the 500cc Isle of Man TT in 1956 (source: pukeariki.com)

The New Zealand Team returned to Europe in 1956. One of them, Bill Aislabie, was killed when racing with Fred Cook in Ireland and Fred's brother Bob was killed racing at Aintree in Liverpool. At the end of that year Fred, who was engaged to be married, stopped racing and took up dairy farming. Seven New Zealanders have been killed racing in the Isle of Man, the first in 1958 and the latest in 2010.

I have other memories of our Isle of Man holiday.

It was there that I received a postcard with my GCE "O" Level results. I sat and passed six subjects but can only remember five of them - Maths, English, Latin, French and History.

Walking was a big feature of all our family holidays and we took long walks near Kirk Douglas. I don't know if Stuart was in a push chair or stayed at home with Mum but Elizabeth, Dad and I were all good walkers. Not surprisingly the same could not be said for Ruth who was only six years old so much of Elizabeth and my time was finding some way to cajole her to the next landmark with the minimum of complaining.

We also took a picnic to a beach near the village but it wasn't a lot of fun; it was cold and windy. In all the time there we never once managed a swim in the sea.

Another outing was to Ramsey on the north side of the island. My principal memory of that day was going in a rowboat on the lake near the seafront. Again it was quite windy and, believe it or not, I felt seasick - on a boating pond!!

Ramsey with boating lake in right foreground (contemporary photo)

During the war, when I was very young, we went to the beach at Girvan on the Ayrshire coast. I was given a ride on a roundabout and threw up so my propensity to motion sickness was clear before the Ramsey experience. It resurfaced in New Zealand on a fishing trip to the Poor Knights Islands. As soon as the fishing boat dropped anchor and started to bob around I took seasick, which lasted the three or four hours until we got back to Tutukaka. I have also felt sick travelling in an Austin Maxi with independent shock absorbers and hydrolastic suspension! Nor did I care for the water beds so popular in the early 1980s.

So it will not surprise you to learn that the idea of a cruise was never on my list of things I was mad keen to do. However, Sharon and I took a twelve day Meditteranean cruise in 2008 and it was brilliant. We booked a cruise where there was the maximum opportunity to get off the ship! with a new port visited every day bar one. And on the one day I had most dreaded, when we were at sea all day travelling from Rhodes to Malta, the Meditteranean was totally calm, spookily so at night, the sea inviting you to jump in for a swim.

One other memory of our Manx holiday.

I had a crush at the time on one of the girls in the St John's Kilburn church choir (my sisters will know who)*. She was six months older than I but we used to exchange letters when I was at boarding school in Wells. When in Kirk Michael I wrote her a postcard (the card was of the local train) but was too shy to send it. I kept it for many years but don't know what happened to it. I also bought her a little gift of some costume jewellery - a brooch I think of a thistle or some such - but when we returned home I was too shy to give her that too. Again I don't remember what happened to it.

Isle of Man Train 1950s

Finally, here's a contemporary photo from the Isle of Man for my grandson Dominic who is a big Thomas the Tank Engine Fan.

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*Carol Singers, Kilburn Park, Christmas 1954

        There's no trace now of St John the Evangelist Kilburn, not even a google image
        No youth club for ping pong and petting games in the dingy crypt
        No corner pub with a Sallies' band and kids loitering at the bar door
        Just a new housing development and spruced up tube station.

        The obliteration of place doesn't erase memories of it
        And one in particular shines through the cold night of a 1950s winter
        Where, in the murky streetlight of a December night,
        Coddled in woolly hats, scarves, gloves, heavy overcoats,
        Our choir of carol singers,
        Stamping our feet between the songs to warm our toes,
        Brings the Christmas message to diffident onlookers.

        Within that choir you and I
        In the innocence of our scarcely teenage years
        Our ice breaths mingling in the still air
        Contrive to share a songbook in the candlelight
        And, as our heads draw close to read the words we know by heart,
        Strands of golden hair caress my face.
        I see your shy gentle smile and breathe you in
       To jump-start my heart with the first stirrings of love.

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