Did you go to Tynwald this year? Do you ever go to Tynwald?

The first year that I went was in 1979.

Because I worked in Strand Street, there was no chance of a day off in the middle of the summer to go to your Granny’s funeral, let alone to go to something as frivolous as Tynwald Fair.

In those days, Douglas was a busy seaside town and all leave was cancelled.

My usual summer hours were nine to six for three days, and nine to nine for the other three days. Try that one for size in today’s world.

Sadly, by the time life had reached 1979, Millennium year, things were changing rapidly.

Mr Boeing had invented air travel for the masses and our holiday industry was taken by surprise.

As you can see by the state of Douglas promenade in 2017, Mr Boeing won.

And to my amazement, so did I. The boss decided to close the shop on Tynwald Day from that year onwards, and I don’t think that we have missed a fair day since.

But why do we go to Tynwald? I know why I go. I just enjoy being part of a community, a unique community that exists island wide.

You can bump into folk that you haven’t seen for years, and carry on with the conversation as though it was only yesterday.

The atmosphere is always relaxed and friendly, and even the protests and petitions are presented and received in good spirit. It is our National Day, and it is celebrated and shared by all who care to join in.

I remember a few years ago when we were in Greece as part of a spring holiday trip, and were spending a few days in Athens. Our hotel was on a wide main road in the centre of the city, and this one day, we were woken up by the roar of continuous heavy traffic.

What I saw when I opened the curtains was not what I had expected.

There was an endless convoy of tanks, armoured cars, rocket launchers and truck after truck packed with tough looking troops, all armed to the teeth. It seemed to go on for hours.

We thought that there’d been a military coup.

But guess what? It was their National Day. The troops were being trucked to a park some miles up the road to march back into the city.

The main parade lasted in excess of two hours. It was a non-stop military show off.

I think I prefer the Manx National Day to the Greek version.

Apart from the Royal Air Force Regimental Band who were armed to the teeth with musical instruments, the only other person to be aware of was the Lieutenant Governor’s Sword Bearer.

Woe betide anyone who dared to shout rude words at His Excellency.

I remember one year, some time ago, when the police presence at Tynwald seemed to be rather more high profile than usual.

I was following a young man who was pushing one of these sit up push chairs, complete with baby, across the road from the school side of the road to the fair field.

A young policeman on guard duty, stopped the pram pusher and child and politely asked if he could check the contents of the carrier bag that was hanging from the pram.

As he was making sure that the bag was innocent, this bloke who was dressed as a viking warrior, complete with a sword swinging from his belt and a vicious looking axe in his hand, strolled past the road check and onto the field.

But a few final thoughts on this year’s Tynwald Day.

Is it just me, or did anyone else notice that MHKs are getting younger?

I remember when the same happened with doctors, vicars and police officers. Then I realised that it was the other way round.

It was me who was getting older.

See you all next year, I hope.