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

I think that I told you this little tale a while ago.

It still makes me smile and something happened the other day that brought back the memories.

That’s odd. I’ve just remembered that I was talking about memories last week. Any way, my apologies if you have heard it before.

One afternoon, I was sitting in the car in Shoprite car park. Brown eyes had vanished into never-never land behind the sliding glass doors and I had settled down to skim through the Courier.

Now I know I’m not alone when I say that the first page that I turn to are the obituaries.

This will be closely followed by Bettridges full page advert of assorted cars for sale.

Yes, you’re right, our current Bettridge bargain is still going well but you never know. One day there might be a Ferrari on special offer.

But back to the ’obits’. I was following the finger down the page and stopped at ’Kelly.’

The newspaper slipped onto the floor. I picked it up and read it again. There was no mistake. Then the phone rang.

’Have you seen the Courier?’ the voice said. It was a friend of mine. ’Yes’ I replied.

We arranged to meet in the pub at tea time.

The deceased was a mutual friend. Not a particularly close friend, but someone who we both knew reasonably well and who had been of an age that was far too young to have shuffled off into the next world.

So that was that, another one bites the dust and life goes on.

Fast forward a couple of years and once again we were in Shoprite.

As we were ambling round the aisles, a familiar face caught my eye. I had spotted this bloke a couple of times and eventually mentioned it to Brown Eyes. She agreed that he did bear a remarkable likeness to our late friend.

Well this day, it was my turn to be bag packer, and I was playing ’beat the checkout’ when my eye caught that of this look-alike character who was packing his bag two checkouts away.

’What’s up with you,’ came the call from a very familiar and unmistakable voice.

’Aren’t you speaking to anyone these days?’

Yes it was him. Alive, well and wanting to know why we had apparently ignored him when we passed each other in the aisles

That’s simple, I replied. I thought that you were dead.

The explanation was indeed simple. By a coincidence, one of his close neighbours who lived just two doors away, had the same surname and Christian names. They both had a similar numbers of wives and children, and one of them had passed away quite suddenly.

But not the one that I knew.

Now listen to this.

Yesterday we went for a trip around just to blow the cobwebs away. We decided to call in at the MSPCA for a cup of coffee and a sandwich.

There were a few folk having a spot of lunch and, as is usual on the island, you always know one or two. The place started to empty and amongst the last to go, there was a man on his own at a table.

He had his back to us and when he turned to leave, I recognised him.

At least I would have recognised him if he had still been alive.

’Hello Mike,’ he said.

’What are you doing here?’ ’Someone told me that you had popped your clogs,’ I replied.

And sure enough, it was him. Alive, well and enjoying retirement. We spent some time catching up and went our separate ways.

So what’s the point you might ask? I suppose when I think about it, there isn’t one.

Except, of course as we all know, there always is.

Many years ago, a customer came into the shop. We exchanged the usual pleasantries and I enquired after her husband. She seemed just a little bit puzzled.

’He died two years ago,’ she said.