The end is not nigh. Which makes a change. As I discussed in my last Gef article, we’re adjusting to an Island that has now gone two Junes without a TT. Now, inevitably, we’re going to have to handle the second year of no post-TT comedown.

Normally at this stage in the game, a large chunk of the population has been partying like it’s 1999 or £19.99 for a burger in some takeaway venues on Douglas Prom. 

After two weeks of making Iggy Pop in the 1970s look like T.E. Brown in the 1870s, fourteen nights of matching biker gangs from Hemel Hempstead to Hokkaido pint for plastic-glassed pints, the Manx party people should now be having to return to their normal, rather more sober, non-TT lives. 

Really, there should be an easing-out period. Another week, where people can try living on snakebite and Frazzles and three hours ‘ sleep only every other day. Where physiotherapists can hand out leaflets on why 63-year-old grandparents might want to think twice before vigorously moshing to Peel’s best Lemmy tribute act. Phased returns for half-forgotten activities such as wearing office clothes, eating fruit, and rising before noon. 

But there’s never anything like that. On the Monday after Senior Race Day – TT Boxing Day if you will – the keenly hoolie-ing are flung back into their real lives. They have coffee as black and strong as the Moddey Dhoo and a hangover that could match the ferocity of that Hell-Pooch of Peel. 

These homegrown rockers have spent the last weekend trying to cram as much boogie-ing in as possible. As the ferries fill with departing fans, they’re aware that Monday is looming and the world of regularity and reality lies behind it. Surely one last session won’t hurt? 

However, Monday has dawned and they’re now haunting their workplaces, like ibuprofen-fuelled ghosts. Janice from Accounts is still finding bits of kebab salad in her bra. Maintenance Ken, who usually thinks that staying up past Newsnight is a bit daring, is wearing long-sleeved shirts and googling discreet tattoo removal services. 

We can count ourselves lucky that none of these poor hungover souls will be queasily flopping around work environments this year. If anything good has come out of the Manx calendar going through two whole cycles without the motorcycles, it’s that people may learn to pace themselves in early June. 

As any devotee of outdoor events on the Island knows, after the rain comes sunshine. All being extremely fit and well, TT22 will usher in a whole new and shiny era of the festival, dispelling the stormy gloom of the previous two years. Having a new and revitalised TT will hopefully remind those whose partying is more enthusiastic than expert that sometimes less is more. And there are more things to sample than the bloke next door’s homebrew. 

This time next year, we could all be arriving for work, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after a fortnight of stimulating and exciting experiences, including, yes, the occasional night of beverages and bopping. Everybody will be refreshed, relaxed, and ready for the start of a new phase, full of healthy vigour and vim.

Just remember to celebrate this by doing a bacon bap run.

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