Showing posts from June, 2022
No, we haven't suddenly acquired an office helicopter, more's the pity.  This flew over the office the other day, probably with a group of motorcycle enthusiasts - or possibly professional racers - on board. We were interested enough to look up the details of the whirlybird (yes, I know we should have been working...).  It is apparently owned by Helitrain, which is based in Cirencester in Gloucestershire, near where the Loaghtan Books junior partner comes from.  Helitrain effectively offers a helicopter chauffeur service, although the company also appears to be involved in adult education, which we're interpreting as training helicopter pilots. It's pretty cool though, owning your own helicopter.  At least I imagine it is...
The island has just seen the end of the TT fortnight.  The race circuit doesn't go past the office, but we can hear the roar of the motorbikes hammering out of Ramsey.  In fact the racing could have been a lot closer to us if the original route was still used. The start of the TT, or, as it was known then, the Gordon Bennett Trial (yes, he of the expression), started just across the valley from us, in Port E Vullen - we can see the houses from the office.  The plaque pictured above marks the spot.  The Trial was originally for cars and was held on the Isle of Man because the Westminster government didn't want to close their roads for racing - there were no race tracks then.  Tynwald, always looking to bring people (and their spending money) to the island, didn't have such qualms, so the Trials came here.  They were successful.  People had a good time, engineers worked out how their cars could be improved (or not), and the Manx liked the novelty. After a few years, races for
No photograph this time.  I did try, but at best it was a colourful blur. We have house martins nesting on the building (office martins?), and trying to take a decent photograph of small black and white feathery missiles proved impossible.  They're fast . I wonder whether the nest is just for practice though - or a decoy - as they've been faddling about for a couple of weeks now, and have only managed a small ledge so far.  I'd have thought they'd have got on with it more quickly.  Perhaps they're upset that they have no neighbours, as house martins like to nest in colonies.  Or perhaps, as the building was repainted last year, they don't like the smell. As it is, about a dozen of them are whizzing around emptying the sky of insects.  They're surprisingly tolerant of humans too, zooming past mere feet away intent on catching lunch.