As 1976 came to a close I found myself reflecting back on the year with its ups and downs, it’s emotional roller coaster rides, it’s achievements and disappointments; within these memoirs I’ve probably only just tipped the iceberg but then my intention in writing them was never to delve too deeply. If I mange to convey to readers how much I love that lump of Rock we call Gibraltar, it’s people, it’s climate and it’s diverse lifestyles then I have achieved one objective; if by the end of Chapter three readers are able to understand why it took me forty years to go back then I will achieved my goal.
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Naturally (in order to keep continuity) there are things I would ‘love’ to share (NOW) but can’t because it would ruin the overall story for readers so I do hope people understand I’m not trying to hide anything; my tales are true (not fictional) and everything will come out in the end; meanwhile I really do want everyone to enjoy their time on my journey with me – it may be of interest to some folks that currently there are about 163 daily readers and the website has been visited 3000 times during its short life.

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When I touched on how convoluted 1976 had been I wasn’t only talking about for me individually; I was also talking about for Carol personally, for Tracey personally, for Sam and also for our family unit as a whole. We had been through incredible uncertainty and strain during the year and had to cope with very swiftly changing emotions which would probably have buckled many people if not split families apart but if anything the challenges and issues throughout the year had brought us even closer together 

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Throughout 1976 we had lived in six different addresses, been technically homeless, were forcibly separated for almost two months and had both of our 21st birthdays apart. We started the year with one child and finished it with two; for Carol particularly she started the year pregnant and finished it pregnant again and after the worries we had following Sam’s birth I was (quietly) more than nervous. For me I had finally achieved the promotion I had dreamed of for years only to put in my notice to leave the RN a few weeks later.

(1976/77 Christmas/NewYear. Edinburgh House, Gibraltar)

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It’s an endearing custom in the Royal Navy that Naval wives will often refer to their husbands as their shipmates do; nick names are very vogue. Someone who’s surname was Clark would be called Nobby, someone with the surname of Williams would be Bungy; to Carol I was Dixy for almost the entire time I was in the Navy; (my youngest daughter is now 39 and still calls me that). 

As we finally greeted in the New Year on the balcony of 21 Edinburgh House Carol asked “We’ll be alright Dixy won’t we?”. “Yes, love, we’ll be okay” I replied hugging her and looking up at the Rock. The new year couldn’t be any more challenging than the last one. Could it?
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