I've been sneaking out

Beware, beware, oh travel writers and tourists. Never, on any account, mutter the impossibly insincere lines, "I'd like to see what nowhere looks like."

(And never, with impassioned bravery, delete see and like for live in. Oh, for fuck's sake. This is the angsty equivalent of pricking your thumb on a spinning wheel and not waking up for a hundred years.)

As a way of explaining my long (protracted) absence, let me use another (protracted) metaphor. Living in the Isle of Man is like finding yourself under the thumb of very strict parents. Sanctioned entertainment (Michael Bolton, The Squeeze (sic courtesy of IOM Today), two showings of St. Trinians on a Sunday), sanctioned professions (accountant, certified accountant, chartered accountant), sanctioned shopping (for this item, let me just say that I have far too many carrier bags emblazoned with the phrase 'Manx to the Max!' and a logo that frightens autistic children).

Briefly and cryptically put I've been grounded. And I apologise for any and all unreturned e-mails and messages. But I've been obtaining unsanctioned music and books via the internet, and reading The Guardian quite a bit, and so my confidence has returned.

So no, don't mutter those lines and don't go away, but if you must, I recommend China.

Somewhere in China :: The Shop Assistants


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