Well that’s it. All over for another year.

What did you think about it? No, not the tennis, that’s on for another week.

Tynwald Day, of course.

Did you go? Or are you one of the ’I couldn’t be bothered with that load of rubbish’ mob?

Well if you didn’t go, I think that you missed a good day.

When I write this column, I often get confused. Some might say that’s not difficult, but I know that you don’t really mean it (I hope).

I usually write it over two days, Saturday and Sunday, and then I send it in on Monday morning.

So when I talk about something that happened yesterday, I could mean the ’real’ yesterday, or I could mean next week’s yesterday.

In this case, the real yesterday was Tynwald Day. Not the yesterday that happened the day before you read the column.

So I started to write next week’s contribution (this one) on Saturday, the day after Tynwald.

All went as planned, and I finished the first half. Good fortune was still smiling on Sunday and, by midday I had almost finished the lot. We decided to treat ourselves and go out for Sunday lunch.

Back at the desk, I switched the computer back on to finish off the last few lines and lost the lot.

Almost 700 words had vanished without a trace. Good heavens!

I tried everything that I knew, which didn’t take long, but all was lost. I had no choice but to start again.

I thought that I had something called system restore, but that didn’t work.

As I reminded myself, at one time I used to believe in Father Christmas, and what good did that do?

My method of column writing is to just tell the tale. I simply write it all down as it comes into my head. It’s never planned, it just happens, but it can’t be repeated, and when it’s gone, it’s gone.

So, as I said to myself that time when I was flat on my back in Victoria Street, ’just stop moaning and get on with it’.

And that’s just what I did. Hey ho and off we go.

So, Tynwald Day. All finished for another year. We were there by about 10.30am. I like to be in our usual spot in good time to see the members clock on.

But for the last couple of years, I’ve noticed that things have been changing. Our vantage point has always been at the corner of the wall where the end of the processional way ends and joins onto the wall that runs down to the lych-gate.

When the top-hat crew and the other participants started to arrive, they would usually stroll across the front green and then head for the short cut through the gap in the wall where we had set up camp.

This corner was also conveniently placed near the church exit onto the processional way, for those with an interest in fashion to observe and comment on this year’s frocks and hats.

But in recent years, their route had been changed. They were now diverted to enter through the lych-gate into the safety of a closed area, and I’m sure that there seemed to be more police officers in evidence this year.

And something else has changed.

On Tynwald Day, the main Peel Road from the Tynwald Inn to Ballacraine is closed to traffic all day, and rightly so.

The soldiers and bandsmen have to march up and down. The cadets, the scouts and the flag bearers will do likewise, and the Lieutenant Governor has to come and go as he needs.

But this year when the official traffic had retreated, the road was not opened as usual to pedestrians and wheelchairs.

But we all learn from experience and all things change. And also, you now know how easy it is to write a weekly column.

Enjoy the rest of the tennis. I’m in the Tour de France.

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