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 we are featuring some of his musings. Sometimes topical, sometimes nostalgic, here you can read about life as seen through the eyes of Pullyman

Well now, what about this Chinese virus? Don’t you think that it’s starting to get a bit worrying?

It was in the days around about the end of World War One that there was a flu epidemic that shook the population.

The name ’Spanish Flu’ is scratching the memory, but I could be wrong.

Another name, this one being well within my time-scale, was Asian Flu.

Each year we are reminded of just how vulnerable we are to these bugs. The annual announcement that the flu jabs are ready and available for the ageing population is a reminder of our frailty.

It’s not so much that it’s a nasty thing to catch at any age, but the older we get, the weaker our immune systems become, and the more likely we are to suddenly say bye-bye.

Now when you think about it, a couple of things stand out.

The first thing that puzzles me is where these flu bugs originate. There always seems to be a hot spot in the Far East or the China area, and secondly, why does each new variety always seem to be just that little bit more vicious than the last one?

Life often leaves the odd problem lying around for someone to trip over. At this time of the year, one of the usual trip wires to look out for are the Atlantic storms.

They aren’t new, they can’t be called original by any stretch of the imagination, but there is one thing you can be sure of, they really are wicked.

As I sit at the desk and will the computer to write the column on its own, I can hear the wind whistling around the lower regions.

I’ve hardly been out of the door for three days but one of the first lessons that Parkinson’s teaches the beginner, is to avoid the wind.

One of the most common hazards that we face every day is what I would call ’assisted falling’. Or, in other words, being blown over.

A few years ago, one of our near neighbours up here in wildest Onchan, saw his garden shed flying around his vegetable patch. After three laps of the garden in hot pursuit of the flying shed, his wife had to rugby tackle him and tie him to the fence while they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

I can honestly say that he hasn’t been the same since.

To the best of my memory, these winter Atlantic storms really do what it says on the tin.

I can still remember the days when winter meant snow and ice and fun.

But the winters we are having these days must be the result of this thing called global warming. I find that I’m listening to the shipping forecast twice a day, just before midnight and at five thirty in the morning.

I can’t wait for those few words, Rockall, Malin, Irish Sea.

Which direction is the wind coming from? Is it going to make storm force 10? What was the barometric pressure at Ronaldsway at 0400 am?

Is there likely to be another amber warning? And are we going to have some coastal over topping at high tide?

Now I have been around for a good few years and over those years I have seen some tough weather.

Fortunately, we have never suffered from flooding or any other natural disasters in our home. To see the devastation on TV that those folk who have been flooded have to contend with, is beyond belief.

Can you imagine the feeling of horror and disbelief of what it must be like? They measure these storms on a scale of say ’one in 50 years’ or so.

The other day we were watching the news the other day and some poor souls who had felt safe in their ’one in 100 years’ area were mopping up for the second time in four years.

Flu, floods, or famine. Just take your pick, there’s plenty to choose from.

The boat didn’t sail again last night. It’s the second time this week we’ve had no papers.