Whenever I’m in the Isle of Man I have a wonderful feeling of calm.  Whether it’s the relative isolation that comes with sticking yourself on a small island surrounded by seas, or the return to roots of many childhood memories - it’s a level of peace and happiness reserved for few places in my life.

It’s always nice to share it as well.  Rachael has been working here for a stint, so I have actually been able to enjoy visiting her this time round. She’s been working most days, leaving me mooch about town and her accommodation; which strongly reminds me of university halls - coincidentally one of the other locations that I’ve felt a similar level of contentedness.  Maybe it’s the minimalistic nature of the accommodation, it’s almost meditative.

Today though I got to spend the day with Oma, we got lunch at a nice tourist spot and then I got to really get away from people with a hike around the windy coast in the south of the island.  From The Sound to Port Erin, I got to breathe fresh sea air, watch waves crash into the rocks below and enjoy the peace and quiet found in being alone.

One of the nice things about the island is that almost every spot is like this: in every direction is the coast and the sea; whether you’re here for the towns or the almost religious motorcycle pilgrimage to the home of the TT, the place is just exquisite.

With me heading away at the end of this month it’s a last meander across an island that I kinda wish I called home: could well be many years before I’m here again.  It’s also another reminder of the tallying number of things I could miss out on while I’m away: elderly relatives, pets, experiences… when you start thinking on the timescale of years it could well be a very different landscape when I return.

But to live and act in fear of change is to not live at all.