Under the Aliens Restrictions Act of 1914, he was arrested and eventually shipped off to Knockaloe internment camp on the Isle Of Man – a tricky spot to escape from.
As the physical act of walking distracted me, my mind quietened down a bit, providing a welcome alternative to my usual world of Slack messages, WhatsApp groups and deadlines.
The fairies would curse us, the van would probably crash and there was a chance everyone on board would die, was the answer.
On the way there the minibus driver informed me that, when we crossed “Fairy Bridge”, I was to greet the fairies in the Manx language – moghrey mie (morr-a-my), meaning good morning.
This included a labyrinthine series of staircases and interconnecting rooms that would leave David Bowie scratching his head, followed by a postcard-ready riverside glen in the garden.
