Do you ever feel like you’re trapped inside your own life?
City living has a way of confining the mind over a long period of time.
I talked last time about the London ‘bubble’ and how it serves to limit your experiences to the very trendiest of places, rather than the dives that you might actually want to visit. It’s really more of a self-imposed imprisonment, composed of bars complete with exposed brick and bare light bulbs. If I spend longer than a month in London, continuously flitting around the streets of Camden and Brixton, I begin to become weighed down by a real sense of claustrophobia.
The streets begin to narrow and each bar seems to get busier with each passing minute.
When I find myself gasping for fresh air and a place to drink that isn’t painted with several layers of irony, I make my excuses and run back to my flat. In a darkened room with my favourite Bjork album playing, I calmly book myself tickets on a plane to a remote British island and sit back with a sigh of relief.
I’d not considered visiting the Isle of Man before this week. Call me a bigot, but it had always seemed like a distant (and Northern) cousin of the Isle of Wight. As far as I was aware this was a small island, surrounded by sea with seemingly very little do, at least in comparison with London. However, after my little panic attack in Camden, this sounded like just the thing that I needed. After a speedy session of booking through SkyScanner (return flights for the weekend for £180), Airbnb (Room in Douglas for £114 p/night) and Airport Parking Market (parking at London City Airport for £33) – I was ready to leave.
The flight from London took just over an hour. As it was an internal flight so the security was light so before I knew it I was stepping out of the wonderfully named Ronaldson Airport and breathing the fresh island air of Douglas, the capital of the Isle of Man.
A few things to note about the Isle of Man, when considering it’s differences to London.
It has a population of just under 88,000 compared to London’s 8.674 million. It covers roughly 570 square kilometres, whereas London sprawls over 1,500 of them (you can do the mathematics on that one). But, what about crime? Surely such an isolated place must be filled with crack pot deviants and raving marauders, right? Wrong! There were 194 offences in the space of a year on the Isle of Man, compared to the thousands recorded in London. If you’re anything like me, you’ll be starting to consider how much you’d really miss having London on your doorstep.
The Isle of Man has been an established tourist destination for some time, as such it’s had a significant amount of financial investment from patrons over the past century. As the years have gone by, fuelled by it’s popularity during the Victorian era, the island has become populated with strange follies and quirky tourist attractions. Great Union Camera Obscura is probably the best example of this.
Sat on top of a hill at the edge of Douglas, this squat building has the look of an observatory, except the telescope isn’t pointed towards the stars. Fans of people watching will be hard to pull away from this lens which is set firmly on the town centre, allowing the voyeur to watch tourists as they go about their business.
Hopping into a hire car I drive over to Bradda Glen to get a look at Milner’s Tower.
The sun is shining and I can see the coast of Ireland looming massively on the horizon. Dedicated to the philanthropist William Milner, the tower cuts a striking shape in sharp contrast to the utterly rugged landscape all around it. I stand and stare for a while before remembering that I have a flight back to London in a day’s time – so it’s back to Douglas for a meal and sleep.
I wanted to spend the last day on the island absorbing as much of the place as possible without having to move too much so I elected to sit on the Snaefell Mountain Railway and idly munch on a meal deal. I’ve spoken before about the romance of train journeys and this one was no different. The railway climbs up 2,000-ft to reach the summit of Snaefell Mountain, the highest point on the Island. With the sun breaking through the clouds, the mountain breeze shook the fine layer of Dorito dust from my trousers as I stepped onto the platform.
Any thoughts of cramped London streets, gourmet bao buns or rooftop bars soon dissipated from my mind as I stared at the vast expanse of land and sea below me.