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

This an open letter to the Hon Geoffrey Boot, Minister for the Environment, Food and Agriculture:

’Dear Mr Boot.

Forgive me for taking up your valuable time, and please excuse me if I am guilty of making any technical errors in meat production terminology, for I am just an ordinary man with a very limited knowledge of abattoirs and meat processing. But I would be most grateful if you could answer what I think is a simple question.

What do you do with all the pigs trotters?

Naturally I don’t mean you personally, but I’m sure that the question will not take up too much of your department’s time, unless of course, that they are already busy researching the disappearance of other tasty animal parts, such as shin beef and ox cheek, not to mention cow heel, ox tail and ox tongue.

I am quite partial to slowcooked braised trotters. I drool over the thought of a plateful of gelatinous delight.

The slow cooker sits and waits, the recipe book is open at the right page, but I cannot find the main ingredient anywhere.

Both of the local butchers that are within the battery range of my mobility scooter tell me the same story. When the pigs arrive from the local abattoir to be made into things such as sausages or pork chops or bacon, they are footless.

Recently, we were in Shoprite and, as we passed through the fresh meat department, I noticed a small sign.

"Dear customer. If you can’t find what you want, ask a member of staff for help."

That’s what I did. I asked the pleasant young man who was re-stocking the shelves. He had never heard of trotters.

I wish your department well in these uncertain times. There will be many challenges to come for everyone who is involved in agriculture.

But, don’t forget, even for the humble trotter, every journey begins with the first step.

Yours faithfully, Pullyman’

I often reminisce about the disappearance of certain aspects of our island life.

Our shopping habits have changed beyond recognition. The individual shopkeeper has given way to the supermarket, the specialist has been swamped by the superstore and seasonal availability of food no longer controls our taste buds.

Any food we desire can be ours from anywhere in the world at any time. We can buy green beans that have been grown in Africa, prawns that were born in Vietnam, and salmon that comes from a farm, not from a river. Today’s generation of shoppers take for granted what folk of a certain age once would have thought impossible.

But at what cost? I’ll tell you. Firstly, food security.

The more food that we import from distant shores will slowly but surely limit our ability to grow our own.

Secondly, food safety. How can we be sure that meat from goodness knows where in the world is produced to proper standards. We read of chicken from America that is irradiated and pork and bacon from Europe that is factory farmed.Lastly, taste.

I remember when chicken for dinner was a tasty treat. Now it is just fast food

Once again, a new company has been created to operate the abattoir.

I wish them well but, sadly, miracles do not happen.

Take a look at the meat shelves in any supermarket. How much Manx meat do you see?

The exception is Shoprite. At least they make an effort to sell Manx, but slowly and surely imported meat is winning the race to our trolleys.

A few days ago we fancied lamb shanks for tea.

A single Manx lamb shank that would have easily fitted inside a tea cup, £4.20. Two New Zealand lamb shanks, each one twice the size of the Manx, £6.50. for two. We had mince.

On second thoughts, though, forget about the trotters after all. I probably couldn’t afford them.