This is my last column before handing over to the new, sixth Manx Bard and I have to admit to feeling a little sad about that, albeit excited to learn who will be my successor.

It has been a wonderful year.

My house is now littered with small, pink notebooks full of scribbles written in English, Manx dialect and Manx Gaelic.

Writing has become addictive and each poem an adventure.

Producing these monthly columns has been a joy for me, albeit sometimes hard-work.

I’d like to be one of those poets who can slim everything down to a few choice words, but I still need to work on that.

But I’ve learned much over the year, not least that you’ve got to write regularly, come what may.

Also you are not to worry too much about pleasing all of the people all of the time.

So I have written to please myself and about the things that interest, intrigue or move me.

I hope you have enjoyed the poems and, all being well, I hope to continue writing and performing in the future.

My final poem is nostalgic, but as it’s holiday time for some, I was thinking of my early experiences of travelling to and from the island.

I was never a very good sailor!

Returning from university in Wales, I would arrive in Liverpool early and try and anchor myself deep down in the ’Ladies Cabin’ on the old Steam Packet boats, not daring to sit upright till Douglas was in sight.

In spite of that, I never lost that sense of excitement on returning home.

The Isle of Man will always be a strong presence in my life, my home.

A sense of belonging comes from many things, but my deep connections to the place I was born have been shaped by the unfailing love and kindness of my family, and I include this little poem as a tribute to them.