For Robin Craig, stepping into the Woodbourne hotel on the Isle of Man in 2011 felt like crossing a threshold into another world. The pub, locally known as 'The Woody', was a red-brick establishment in Douglas where he was born and raised. Yet, upon entering with a female friend, he was met with a sea of staring eyes, making them feel like interlopers in a sacred, male-dominated space.
A Glimpse into a Forgotten Isle
Craig, barely of legal drinking age, had heard the pub served some of the island's best beers. What he didn't anticipate was discovering one of the last bastions of traditional Manx culture. This was an Isle of Man largely unknown to him, where thick Manx accents blended with Gaelic, and where patrons knew each other's families for generations.
The bar was constantly packed. Older men propped up the bar while younger groups played pool. It was only after getting their pints and sitting down that Craig and his companion noticed the 'GENTS ONLY' sign on the wall—a relic from a bygone era.
'Traa Dy Liooar': Time Enough for a Pint and a Chat
Throughout that summer before leaving for university in London, Craig returned regularly, always with friends for moral support. He witnessed a vibrant cultural scene where English mixed vividly with Manx Gaelic. Locals gathered around TVs and slot machines, drinking Okell’s Manx pale ale—a golden, malty beer brewed nearby—and greeting each other with 'fastyr mie' (good afternoon).
This was a stark contrast to his own upbringing, where teachers had dismissed learning Manx Gaelic as a waste of time, insisting 'we all speak English nowadays anyway'. In The Woody, the Manx saying 'traa dy liooar' (literally 'time enough') reigned supreme. Nobody was rushed; there was always time for another pint and another conversation.
From Suspicion to Acceptance
Over the weeks, Craig and his friends discovered the gents-only rule was not enforced, with the signage kept up for nostalgia. The regulars gradually softened, their suspicious stares ceasing. For a brief period, they became part of the pub's crammed, chaotic, and noisy atmosphere, fully immersed in this unique piece of living Manx heritage.
When autumn arrived, Craig left for London to study and build a new life. However, the summer spent in The Woody left an indelible mark. He now actively seeks out Manx ales and strives to maintain his own Manx accent. More importantly, the experience taught him a lasting lesson: that even the most closed-seeming communities will warm up in time.
The Woodbourne hotel offered more than just pints; it provided a profound connection to an island's soul, a culture distinct from England's, which Craig had only glimpsed previously through his grandparents. It was, truly, the pub that changed him.
