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

We took a trip along the prom the other morning.

In fact we take a trip along the prom most mornings.

Tell me, how do they remember which section they were working on when they finished the day before?

I’m not having a go at anyone, and I’m sure that they know what they’re doing, and work seems to be progressing on schedule (ahem) but why don’t they just do one piece at a time?

If they could complete one section before they moved on to the next it would be a great help to us regular observers. What confuses me is that if we cruise into town for a sociable midday cup of coffee and a toasted teacake, the route back to Onchan is quite likely to be completely different to what it was two hours ago.

There is a wonderful archive of old photos of Douglas promenade and long ago summer holidays.

When you see the pictures of the crowds of visitors enjoying the dance halls, theatres, horse trams and deckchairs, it is difficult to believe that the infrastructure that supported all this activity was created with the hard labour of hundreds of manual workers using picks and shovels.

Their only mechanisation was the horse and cart and, with those things alone, they created an industry.

They reclaimed the land on which grew the boarding houses and hotels.

The last remaining section of the old sea wall (I think) can still be seen in the lane behind the Promenade Church.

They used picks and shovels and their horses and carts to move thousands of tonnes of rock from the Douglas Head quarries to build so much of what is being rebuilt today.

I’ve come to realise that there are many advantages in being a non-driver. One in particular is being able to look around at on-going jobs such as the Promenade.

The other day I was mind doodling as we drove across country from Onchan to Douglas. I was thinking about horses and carts when the sun briefly vanished.

It was eclipsed by a gigantic JCK umpteen wheeler truck which was in turn carrying a huge, caterpillar tracked, 360 degree digger.

To this day, we still measure the strength of these powerful giants in horse power, so how many horses and carts does a machine like that replace?

I know, that is an impossible question to answer. But it made me think. How many of these machines are working on the prom?

Surely two or three of these beasts could dig a trench from Douglas to Peel in a week.

I grabbed a clipboard, fired up the scooter and went for a count.

There were 17 tracked diggers between Summer hill and the Sea Terminal. There were dumpers, tractors and various items of motorised equipment.

There were six, eight-wheeled trucks. You name it, they’ve got it.

And do you know what? Right now, all of a sudden, who cares? Does it matter?

It is 7.10am on Tuesday morning.

I am sitting with fingers poised over the keyboard and I have two targets to meet.

To finish the column, I need another 200 words and my deadline is midday. Absolutely no problem with either target.

I was going to poke a slice of harmless fun at road builders and repairers with a quick tour around some of the apparently endless roadworks and the like, but I’ve just spent an hour with a cup of tea and the early morning Radio 4 news.

We are in the soup. Big time! Pullyman is lost for words. Every corner of the globe, as the flat earth society would say, is facing the unknown. The situation is changing with every news broadcast and who knows what will come next.

I’ll see you all next week. (Unless we are victims of a sudden cyber attack).

One of my favourite poems ends with this last line which has been adjusted for obvious reasons: ’And you think that you’ve got problems’.

p.s. I’m just off to buy some toilet rolls.