July 22nd:

I came home today. Woke up at 5:00 am, made myself some cereal, and walked to the Isle of Man’s airport (a 10-minute walk from King William’s) and caught a one hour flight to Gatwick. Three-hour layover, six-and-a-half flight to Newark, and I’m back in the States.

I have to say, I miss the Island. More than I ever thought I would. As soon as I got on the little propeller plane bound for Gatwick, I knew I’d miss waking up in King William’s College (or, rather, being woken) by the steam train’s whistle, bleary-eyed and stumbling into the kitchen where I’d look out the window. And whenever I saw the mists lying gently on the cricket greens, I’d forget my anger. I always enjoyed the quiet mornings.

I knew I’d miss the army men that were staying in the College, doing training on the greens, the Duke of Lancaster’s regiment. Always dressed in full army greens, out on the fields at 6.00am every morning doing exercises. They yelled loud enough to wake the dead in the mornings, and drank enough to join the dead in the nights. Their sergant was a lightweight, so they’d treat him to a pint in the early evening and help him stumble into bed right afterwards so they could go out and party.

I knew I’d miss all the friends I’d made. The kids who’d stay up until 2 am talking about Egyptology. Even after digging for bones and artifacts from 9 to 5, they’d still have the energy to go out and explore the Island after I came home from work.

In an antique shop in Peel, I picked up a pure-silver necklace with the symbol of the Island on it:

The Manx Triskelion accompanies the Island’s motto: Quocunque Jeceris Stabit. For those who aren’t fans of Latin, the motto translates to:

“Wherever you throw it, it will stand.”

I suppose that’s something I’ll never mind wearing around my neck.