The last two towns you get to in the south of the Island are Port Erin (on the west coast) and Port St Mary (on the east coast).

It was Port Erin that was the family favourite when I was growing up, and beach afternoons figure bright in my memory. Folding chairs; the inevitable windbreak that your dad had to hammer into the sand, only to have to move and rehammer when the wind shifted; the little green towelling thing with a white fringe (we called it a poncho, but it wasn't) that my mum made for me to wear over my swimming costume ("dippers" in dad-speak); running in and out of the water, heedless of its coldness, my head full of mermaids and other sea stories; ice-cream... Those were the jolly bits of childhood.

Port Erin today:






Port St Mary's beach is less pretty, but it's still a very attractive little place:














Ahh, the Manx Riviera...