As the old song goes, "I'd like to be a tripper, and eat a juicy kipper, on the dear old Isle of Man."

And indeed, we're just rounding off a week of tripping and kipper-eating on the beautiful island that is the land of my birth.

Favourite things:

-- Riding the steam train from Port Erin to Douglas and back (which involves traversing the beautiful Manx countryside in a Turkish bath's worth of steam, while the engine chuffs, the whistle shrills, the wheels clack, and the unteachable sheep and cows scamper away from the line...)













-- Turning on the nostalgia tap in the railway museum







-- Hunting for stone circles in the lovely countryside at the back of Port St Mary, and rounding off with scones at the Cregneash Tea Rooms









-- Spotting seals and eider ducks and black guillemots







-- Eating toasted plain bonnag in the toasty Niarbyl Bay Cafe, while outside the rain lashed and the oyster catchers foraged

-- Having dinner at Two Six, whose runway-end location adds a different little something to the already excellent food

-- Eating kipper-fillet baps on Peel breakwater

-- Licking a Davison's ice-cream on the prom (in a shelter, like the trippers of old, who were thrown out of their boarding houses after breakfast, and not expected to return until the next meal-time or bed-time)

-- Eating whole kippers straight off the barbie (and following them up -- as you must -- with bread, butter, and strawberry jam)







-- Scrambling all over the Victorian Gaiety Theatre, now beautifully restored











-- Walking the coast to the old Kentraugh mill, parts of which go back to the 16th century, and then heading off for sausages and mash at the Shore Hotel







-- And enjoying the island's scenery, which -- regardless of weather -- is always sublime













I know I'm biassed, but could anywhere be more beautiful?