So my cousin's daughter (who is therefore, I suppose, also my cousin) had offered us a lamp she no longer needed. I'd seen the photo, and thought: Yes, I know exactly where that would go.

She lives in Port St Mary. We were heading for Port Erin anyway (we have developed the habit of getting our hair cut there), so we thought we'd make a day of it by popping over the hill, and collecting the lamp.

There's a rhythm to these things:

First, you take the air from Port Erin's top prom; make use of the Whistlestop Cafe; and watch the train departing:






It has possibly crossed your mind that there are too many steam train photos on this blog. PT is here to tell you that there can NEVER be too many steam train photos...

Then we set out over the usual back road to Port St Mary:


Another lovely day, with the sea crystal clear, and the little town really sparkly:




I particularly loved this slightly ghostly array of garden furniture:




It wasn't the right day for cafes in Port St Mary, so we did what we did last time, which was to buy chilled coffee from the little Coop, and sit and drink it on a bench in the sun.

And then it was time to collect the lamp. Which was surprisingly heavy...

Luckily, the bus stop was just across the road. (And even more luckily, it wasn't raining.) We used tape and a bin bag to cover the shade and bulb, and we hoisted it aboard. You'd think a lamp would just sit there, right? Well, no. It had a tendency to pivot. You had to keep a very firm grip on it.

The next problem was how to get it that last little stretch up the hill to the house. One option was to stay on the bus all the way into Douglas, and then swap onto our trusty 21B, which stops very close to our place. But our current bus was running a bit late, and we thought the three of us might miss the 21B, and have to wait half an hour for the next one.

So we decided to get off at the stop at the bottom of the hill, lug the lamp to the bus stop a bit further up (on the other route), and catch the 21B from there.

I decided the easiest way to carry it was to hoist it onto my shoulder. My mother always said I had coal-heaver's shoulders, and sometimes they come in very handy.

With the shaft of the lamp resembling a pole, and the bin bag at the top making a nice puffy bundle, I felt a bit like Dick Whittington (minus the cat).

(Digression: I said that to someone, remembering my children's story books, in which Dick Whittington was always depicted setting out on his quest with a stick and a bundle. I then questioned that memory, and checked online for pictures. And yes, indeed, there are still plenty that feature both stick and bundle, just as I'd remembered them.)

Having reached the bus stop that was our target, and realized we'd have to wait quite a while, I decided I could probably get this thing a bit further under my own steam. All the way, in fact. Probably looking a complete idiot, but hey...

So, mission accomplished. And here it is, in situ, looking jolly elegant: