As I am sometimes heard to say in reply to a common question that folk ask me. ’Where do you get your inspiration from?’

I simply say that I keep my eyes and ears open and I am blessed with a good memory.

The fact that I’ve been around for a good few years is also quite useful.

However, as many old men will agree, we are very likely to suffer from various ’old men’s problems’.

One such inconvenience is the need to ’use the facilities’ once or twice during the night and a frequent by product of having to get up, is the difficulty of getting back to sleep.

But not for me. Pullyman always has a plan B.

In this case, plan B is a small Roberts radio with ear phones that has an automatic off switch, permanently tuned to the World Service.

The other night I was listening to yet another group of experts discussing the ’V’ word. Believe me, this discussion had my full attention. It was frightening.

The subject was the link between coronavirus and meat-processing plants. Most of what was reported was specific to the USA, but the problems were worldwide.

In the early days of my long working life, I had spent a couple of years in the Douglas abattoir.

I was employed by the Fatstock Marketing Company and latterly by the British Beef Company to calculate the payment due to the farmers for their beef, lamb, pork and bacon.

In those long ago and, to me, simple days, practically all of the meat that was eaten in the island, was born and bred just a few miles from the slaughter house.

There was minimum stress and maximum quality. Believe me, we didn’t know when we were well off.

At Christmas, the local shops were bursting at the seams with local produce.

Poultry, game and ham was supplied by local producers for local customers. Everything was fresh, stress-free and safe.

When I was collecting my paperwork from the sheds I could see from the clipboard where the animal had been born and who had killed it. Everything was open, respectful and honest.

I knew all of the slaughter men, I knew their names and where they lived. I knew the butchers and their shops where they sold the meat to their customers.

When I listened to the reporter on the radio telling the world about the production-line killing and the conditions and methods that were used to maximise productivity, I don’t know whether I felt more sympathy for the slaughterer or the slaughtered.

The workers were mostly immigrants who were employed on minimum wage.

They worked in cold, noisy and cramped conditions. Coronavirus thrives in the cold. The labourers were having to communicate with each other by shouting at close contact to make themselves heard and, if they became ill, which was a regular occurrence, they were rarely paid sick pay.

In the land of the free, they were exploited and abused and had little chance to avoid contracting and spreading Covid-19.

The whole industry is dominated and run by a regime that is controlled by followers of a self-serving President who barely accepts that coronavirus actually exists.

The United Kingdom is continually dropping hints about possible future deals with the USA on the subjects of trade and agriculture.

Today, we often can find a multiplicity of promises and guarantees on food packaging which is used to tempt us to buy food from elsewhere.

Remember that it is only a short time ago that our island was, and still could be, self-sufficient in the food we need. Caveat emptor.