Some years 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

Long, long ago in the distant past I used to be the Demesne Road School stamp monitor.

Every Monday morning after assembly I used to go round to each of the classrooms in turn, armed with a notebook and a small tin box.

Depending on your age and your relative wealth, I would take orders for 6d and 2/6d Post Office saving stamps and then walk down to the Prospect Hill Post Office to buy the stamps and complete the transaction.

We were encouraged to save, and for those who took care of the pennies, they soon learned that the pounds really would add up.

In our house we were all savers, if you wanted to buy something, you had to have the money first.

The Post Office encouraged saving - the youngsters would start with the stamps, and then move into the Post Office Savings Bank which actually paid you interest on your investment.

Our parents trusted a bank in Athol Street to look after their spare cash, aptly called the Isle of Man Bank for savings.

But it was many years before they needed the services of a cheque account.

In their early married life, father’s wages were paid weekly in cash and it naturally followed that all household transactions were conducted the same way.

On Monday mornings without fail, mother would walk into Douglas to the Town Hall to pay the rent for 52 Cedar Grove in Pulrose.

The electricity meter was coin operated and the meter reader would regularly call with his heavy leather bag to empty the box.

Simple honest lives that were lived and enjoyed within their modest means.

Brown Eyes and I were married in 1964 - we lived in a rented flat in Victoria Road in Douglas for a year or so, and then moved to Greeba and a two up- two down cottage for the next 46 years.

The accommodation could only be described as basic. Outside toilet, no bathroom, and a kitchen that would fail the trades description act. One day, our landlord called to give us the good/bad news that he wanted to sell our home.

To this day, I don’t know how we did it, but we managed to talk our way into a government mortgage. We were home owners with a mortgage on a house that was without doubt, sub-standard. It had cost us £1,400 and included half an acre of garden.

We set about building extensions to provide a bathroom and a kitchen.

I will always remember the words of advice from the lawyer who handled the transfer of title: ’Don’t be tempted to pay off the loan early’, we were well advised. We lived there for 46 years, and the last 20 were mortgage free.

Our financial affairs, such as they were, were managed by the Isle of Man Bank. Sadly, the Bank’s affairs did not enjoy the same luxury. The only remaining connection to the Isle of Man is the name. It has been sold, purchased, restructured, re-named and finally re-homed in Jersey. The current owners tell us that a considerable amount of time and money has been spent on improving customer service. They must define improvements in a different way to me.

The original network has vanished. Peel and Onchan are closed. Regent Street in Douglas can only offer self-service machines and no counter services, and the one-time head office in Athol Street, has been completely renovated.

What was once a fine row of hand-crafted wooden service positions, now looks like a collection of B&Q style cupboards and sink units.

The world’s population is dying from a self-perpetuating virus, millions suffer from starvation or are homeless.

The planet is committing suicide and the so-called civilised nations exist on greed and debt. When I sit at the keyboard to write this weekly column, I never know where it might lead. It just happens.

Happy Christmas.