A decade ago Pullyman - aka Michael Cowin - was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease, a condition that affects people in different ways. Michael discovered writing and Island Life is featuring some of his musings. Sometimes topical, sometimes nostalgic, read about life as seen through the eyes of Pullyman.

Now don’t tell anyone that I said this, but I think that there is something going on with the buses.

I can’t just put my finger on it, but I am starting to get worried.

You remember what happened to me a couple of weeks ago, when the driver of the No 2 that I was waiting for ’didn’t see me’ and drove straight past?

Just let me remind you of the first incident.

I was waiting at the stop in Victoria Street to board the No 2.

Now, usually, this bus will stop here to let passengers get off. But this particular afternoon was the exception to the rule.

Everyone stayed in their seats.

I realised that the bus was not going to stop, so in order to attract the driver’s attention, I waved both of my walking sticks in his direction.

Now if he genuinely did not see me, it could be time for him to phone his optician. After all, if he couldn’t see an elderly man standing at a bus stop waving two walking sticks, is the safety and care of his passengers in question?

But what happened a few days later made me think.

Could it be that he ignored me on purpose?

Well, the other tea time another strange thing occurred.

A few days ago, I was aboard another No 2 heading for Onchan.

We had passed the Manx Arms, driven round Ballachrink and passed through Lakeside.

A smooth ride and a careful driver. We turned into Groudle Road and I pressed the bell. So far, so good.

Try and picture the layout of the bus stops in Groudle Road. Going down the road (with the bus) there are two, and I would normally get off at the second one.

But about 100 yards before we reach this stop, there is another one, (going up the road), outside our house. This is only used once each day, by a school bus.

Now as I say, the stop down the road is about 100 yards away.

If there is anyone waiting to get on, they will be clearly visible.

If there is s fellow traveller on my bus preparing to get off, it will be obvious.

So there it is, a bus stop at my front gate that is only used once each day, school days only, and a bus stop 100 yards down the road, standing all alone.

Now for someone who needs two sticks, 100 yards can seem like a long way.

So, if I am the only passenger who wants to get off, I will ask the driver if he will stop at my gate.

Now by definition a bus driver is a highly-skilled professional.

He is responsible for the safety and comfort of many passengers and I’m sure that he could quickly assess the situation and decide whether or not it is safe to let me off at my gate, as indeed many do.

Invariably, he will decide in my favour, and stop his bus.

A simple act of kindness that costs nothing and inconveniences no-one.

But it is the exception that proves the rule, and this driver was different .

Now, if I had been a sheep and he was a dog, I would have been worried.

I had asked him politely if he would stop at my gate.

’If I stopped here to let you off, I could go to prison,’ came the reply.

’I see’, I said, warily. ’How do you work that one out?’

’I told you,’ he said again.

’If I stopped to let you off and you got hurt, I would be taken from here and put in prison.’

I had no doubt that he would be taken from here and put somewhere safe, but by now we had arrived at the stop that was down the road.

I got off the bus, smiled pleasantly and wished him a safe onward journey.

I could feel his eyes watching me as I limped back up the road.