In just over a week, Ramsey Bakery is set to close after 50 years of serving up fresh, local bread.

The news came as a shock, caught the public and the gov by surprise and led to calls for it to be nationalised in order to save the business, save jobs and, by extension, the flour mill which is already in gov hands. 

With the closure of the bakery, Mr B’s will also close, bringing to an end an institution of Manx life, ordering their yards of pasty to the office for someone’s birthday or just because sod it, it’s Friday. 

In fact, it goes far beyond that, a Mr B’s yard of pasty has not just been an institution, it has been the natural born right of every Manx man, woman and child to expect that an office party (including those which aren’t parties, but merely work events) has a yard of meat and potato pastry and a cheese and onion one for the vegetablists.

Healthy? Nah. Easy to eat without getting crumbs down yourself? Absolutely not. But delicious? Yes. A crowd pleaser? Certainly. A smell to warm the soul? You better believe it!

When it comes to bakers, the British think Gregs is the standard bearer, the head of the table, the needle mover. But we, on this small little rock in the Irish Sea, know different, we know there is a better way to get your steak pie, your pork pie, your sausage roll and of course, your pasty.

Other bakeries will remain and don’t get me wrong, there are some spectacular bakeries on this island, each serving up their own breads, their own sausage rolls or pastries. And, in time, new ones will be born, but this is the end of what we knew, what we shared, what we loved.

Humanity has achieved many great world beaters, but they all come to an end: Concorde; the Bugatti Veyron; Manchester United. Next weekend we will add Ramsey Bakery and its yard of pasty to that list of icons that future generations will only hear or read of but not truly understand.

And I think that’s terribly sad.