Last week I was thinking about the summer seasons that we all used to enjoy.
Everywhere was busy, the visitors would be enjoying the two weeks’ freedom from their daily grind.
The kiosks, cafes, and amusement arcades, the rock shops, the gift shops were all go from morning to supper.
Many of the larger boarding houses and private hotels catered for full board. This meant that as well as bed and breakfast, the visitor could expect lunch, evening meal, and in some cases, supper.
Many of these private establishments also had a licence to sell alcohol. The snag was it was for residents only.
Years ago, in the season, the public houses called last orders at 10.30pm or 10.45pm (the old brain is getting rusty), with all drinks to be consumed 15 minutes later.
But, if you knew someone with a residents’ only licence who was prepared to take a chance, you could possibly manage another hour.
It was always a risky business because the constabulary took a dim view of law breakers and would make random checks of premises.
I believe they even brought plain clothes constables over from Liverpool.
The glue that held a good holiday together was the entertainment. And in the island, it came by the bucket full.
If you were based in Douglas and fancied a night at the pictures you had about five cinemas to choose from. Usually there were two shows, first and second house, with an extra matinee in the afternoon if the weather was unkind.
There was something for everyone. Ballroom dancing, variety shows, cabaret nights in pubs and talent competitions.
The Villa Marina would have afternoon entertainment in the Villa Gardens’ outdoor theatre. During the week, many of the evening musicians and artistes would adapt their act for daytime audiences.
Shows had to conform to certain standards of behaviour.
Young ladies would strut their stuff in their best swimsuits in the weekly Bathing Beauty competitions in the Villa Marina Gardens and at the end of the season the winners would be called back to contest the final. The prize? Miss Isle of Man for a year.
I think the competition was viewed by all to be harmless fun. But these days, it is considered to be demeaning for the fair sex to be ogled at by a gang of lecherous men.
That idea seems to fall by the wayside when the same ladies are getting ready for a night out on the town.
But hey ho, what do I know? I was too busy watching the Minstrel Show at the Open Air Theatre on Douglas Head.
But the Mecca for us kids was the fun fair on Onchan Head, known as the White City.
Onchan Head was the home of a traditional fun fair. As well as the slot machines and side shows, it had the usual treats, the rollercoaster, dodgem cars, a ghost train, motor boats and so on. But for me, the star attraction was the small wooden theatre.
Every year, this theatre was the home of a speciality act. And he would be the star attraction for the season.
One regular was stage hypnotist Joseph Karma. Another star attraction was Maurice Fogel, who could catch bullets in his teeth.
But there was one man who stood out from the crowd. My dad, Percy. No, he wasn’t one of the acts, but in our eyes, he was the star of the show.
This illusionist, whose name escapes me, would strip to the waist and lie on a bed of nails.
An assistant would place a small square of wood on his chest, and two men would carefully top this with a blacksmith’s anvil.
Step forward Percy Cowin. Percy would take his jacket off and pick up a heavy sledgehammer.
A flex of the muscles, a roll of a drum, and my hero would give the anvil several blows with the hammer. He never did nail that man to the bed, but believe me, he tried.