You know the sort of thing that I mean.

There’s a few regulars in the pub having a pre-teatime shandy, and the conversation turns to ’I remember the days’ mode.

It could be that someone or another has shuffled off into the afterlife, and is propping up the counter in heaven’s piano bar, or someone else’s memory has been woken up by the mention of a name from long ago.

And then you hear the immortal words: ’There just aren’t the characters around these days’.

What that should mean is that there aren’t as many eccentrics, crackpots or drunkards getting in everyone’s way as there used to be. But time does make most people’s specs rose-tinted.

There will always be some individuals who may be passionate about something, and there could be others that would what we know as characters who come in all shapes and sizes.

They were most definitely not all lads, and my selection does not include crackpots or drunkards.

I have, however, included the occasional eccentric.

There was one character who lived in the St. Johns area, called Frankie Ballard.

Frankie would cycle into Douglas on a Friday or Saturday afternoon on his old bike. He would have a cargo of seasonal flowers in his handlebar basket that he sold by the bunch to his regular customers.

I can’t remember when he first called on us and I never knew where he grew his crops, but his efforts would be sure to brighten up our shop.

Another cycling personality was a man called Tommy Hammond. I think that he was a painter and decorator, but his inclusion on my list is because he lived in a tunnel under King Edward Road.

This had once been the entrance to the Howstrake holiday camp. Tommy and his dog, who was often a regular passenger on his owner’s carrier bike, were on the scene for quite a few years.

Tommy’s usual means of transport was a fairly ancient carrier bike. At one time, some kind person had given him a more sporty bike that had ten gears and drop handlebars.

I had spotted him out and about on the new bike and, to be fair, he did seem to be a bit uncomfortable with it.

It didn’t last for long. Shortly afterwards, I bumped into the pair of them back on the old carrier bike.

Tommy said that the sports model had been too fast, and that there was no seat for the dog.

I also remember an occasion when Tommy had been brought before the High Bailiff. I think that his alleged crime was either failing to submit his tax return, or failing to pay an estimated bill, I can’t remember which, but the High Bailiff showed true wisdom when he suggested that the tax authorities should review their system.

Over the years, Manx Radio’s phone-in programme, Mannin Line has both entertained or infuriated us to different degrees.

I’m sure that we all have had our favourites to love or hate. I remember Roy who was, without doubt, the man to ask if you wanted to compare the price of gas, petrol or bread in the island with anywhere else in the British Isles.

And who could ever forget people like Dorothy from Peel, or Marge from Douglas. They were real and were never slow to speak their minds.

We will all have our personal lists of characters that we remember for personal reasons. They could be friends, relatives or neighbours, but they all had something in common. They were real.

In today’s world, communication with others is instant. We can have virtual friends all over the world, but who knows, you might have a genuine character living next door.

It’s Christmas, why not ring a bell.