Those who have had the dubious pleasure of commuting into London by rail, as I did for nearly ten years, will know what a strange microcosm this is. . . .

his Tale dates from the early 1970s. . . . 

ust occasionally in the upstream you meet not an armchair general, but a real one, a retired general hired by an oil company as an adviser, strategist or consultant. . . . 

Pithecanthropus was the cruel soubriquet of the water bailiff at the Clypse reservoir. It is not clear whether it referred to his looks, his intelligence, or both . . .

I had thought that my earlier Tail, Horse, would be my last word on the Tesco horsemeat scandal. . . . 

Many years ago Les took my father, brother and me to a Manx farm to introduce us to the farmer and ask if we could shoot wild ducks on his dub (the Manx word for a pond). . . .

I first came to the Isle of Man on holiday with my family in 1962. I was five years old. . . .

Walking to the pub I take a shortcut marked “Public Footpath to Main Road”. . . 

The Island is rich with folklore. . . .

Some of these Tails are from times past. This one goes back to the 1970s, when there was a rich herring fishery on the Island and we were students who spent our long and precious summers here. . . .

The fearsome Maughold Head Race is open to all ages, and just before the start the organisers were trying to persuade some of the older gentlemen of the Parish to take part. . . .

When you leave Ramsey on the coast road, and take the left turn to Maughold, the road crosses the tram track and then drops down through Port-e-Vullen. . . . 

A friend tells us that there is a plague of hares on his farm. . . .