Now I’m one of those blokes who never really looks smart.

In the old days of suits and ties, I was never a fashionable dresser. I would be clean and reasonably tidy, but no matter how hard I tried, smart I was not.

Then I started a new job in Strand Street and, as I had to wear a suit every day, a suit became my uniform.

The date was January 25, the year was 1962.

The suit-wearer of the day could shop at leisure.

On the island you could examine and discuss the latest fashions with the salesman in your tailors of choice.

I well remember Burtons on the corner of Victoria Street and Duke Street, John Collier, who was further along Duke Street and (I think) Alexanders, who were also in Duke Street.

Esquires, a local business, was in Strand Street and just about completed the list of what I would call ’popular’ men’s clothes shops.

And there was Lays menswear shop, on the corner of Duke Street and Lord Street and was directly opposite the Manx Co-Op.

Coincidently, I think that the Co-Op also sold suits. I have a vague memory of suits on display somewhere between the TV sets and the wardrobes, but that was the mystery of the Co-Op.

Lays were a gentleman’s outfitters and would expertly outfit any passing well heeled gentleman who could afford their superior service.

I was never to be a customer of Lays, but I did know of a young Pully lad who rose through the ranks to become a smart sales assistant in this exclusive shop.

He was an accomplished ’teller of the tale’, if you know what I mean, and as we both worked in the Streetwe would often bump into each other and would swap any recent shop workers anecdotes that we remembered.

In days gone by the island would welcome many summer visitors, whose favourite holiday pastime would be shopping.

It always struck me as a strange way to spend your holidays, but each to his own, and we all knew that it was the precious visitor who paid our wages.

One of his tales was about a customer who had asked to try on an expensive pair of shoes that he had seen in the window. My friend had removed the tissue paper that was always stuffed into new shoes and the customer tried them on. Unfortunately, it was the last pair of this pattern in stock and they were two sizes too big.

’That’s no problem,’ said the customer. ’Just stuff the tissue paper back in and let me try them on again.’

This time they were a perfect fit and the customer decided to make the purchase.

Because of his accent, my friend knew that his customer was from the Emerald Isle and was not surprised by the next question.

’Is there any discount?’

My friend replied that he would have to ask his manager when he returned from his lunch. But, he said to the customer, I won’t charge you for the tissue paper.

He made the sale.

It led me to remember a time when I was in our shop one fine afternoon.

I smiled a greeting to the stern looking lady who had swept in through the open door and was standing in front of me. The conversation went like this.

’May I see the handbag in the window for £17.50?’

’Certainly,’ I replied and placed it on the counter for her to examine.

She gave the bag a careful inspection and said: ’I have seen this same bag in a shop along the Street priced at £15. Can you offer me any discount?’

I smiled at her and politely replied that it would make sense for her to return to the other shop and purchase her bag.

She then admitted that the other shop had just sold out. ’Well,’ I said, ’if we had just sold out, our bags would only be £10.

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