So, as advertised at the end of last month, October's end finds us back on the Isle of Man.

Where today is Hop tu Naa... Similar to but different from Halloween, this is "the oldest continuously-existing tradition in the Isle of Man". And, because it's the last day of autumn, and the Celtic year begins with winter, it's actually New Year's Eve.

I remember my mother gamely carving turnip lanterns for me to take to school (which is hard yakka -- none of this soft, easy-carve pumpkin stuff). One year she incorporated an old furry bonnet, from which she cut ears to make a cat turnip lantern. Thinking back, this may well have been a fire hazard, but it was certainly impressive...

I hadn't realized, though, until I read the collection of links above, that there is quite a diversity of Hop tu Naa traditions on this small Island. The traditional song that I know is apparently the Peel version. There are plenty of others.


Anyway, the month started very differently, back home in Kuching:





There was some en-route purple:



And on the 13th, we arrived safely in St Johns in the sheading of Glenfaba, on the west side of the Island. It's a good place to be based. Everything is very accessible, and there are lots of from-the-doorstep walks.

My enthusiasm for the Isle of Man risks becoming a tedious read. During our visit last year, I made an attempt to analyse how I feel about it and why. It has not always been my place of choice, but having reconnected, the bond grows ever stronger.

I can't totally explain it. There's just something about this Island that "fits", that feels right, that responds to some inner need.

So, whatever the weather throws at us -- and it throws lots -- I just love being here, and with only two more complete days to go, I'm already feeling sad about having to leave.




To see how scenic it all is, start here, and work your way forward. It has all been interesting, but particular highlights for me have been the Snaefell Mines walk; the day we had the fabulous light; the Sloc circuit; and the steam train ride.



Travel months don't tend to be huge reading months, but October produced a fairly interesting crop. I'm a big fan of Sarah Bakewell's approachable philosophy, and really enjoyed At the Existentialist Cafe. I guess you could also say that what Ivo Andric does is approachable history, and his Bosnian Chronicle was a great introduction to some of the territory we're hoping to travel through on the way home. Otherwise, there were two charming little period pieces, Elizabeth and her German Garden by Elizabeth von Arnim, and Mozart on the Journey to Prague by Eduard Moerike. And -- ideal for long journeys -- three page-turners: A Legacy of Spies by John le Carre; Dead Lagoon by Michael Dibdin; and The Distant Echo by Val McDermid.

We're hoping to travel to England on Friday (there have been a lot of boat cancellations on account of the wild weather lately, so we're keeping our fingers crossed on that one). We're planning just over three weeks in Derbyshire. And then we'll be heading back, overland, to Istanbul. More on that soon.

If all goes to plan, we'll end next month in Trieste. But who can predict anything these days? That question has always been valid, of course, but at the moment I'm very conscious that everything feels about as firm underfoot as a jelly. May November bring a bit more sense to the world.