While I’d been ‘Moon-gazing’ on our way back from Casemates the group had been discussing what we should all do the following day. Now that it was the following day (and I was no longer Moon-gazing but sitting with them all at the breakfast table) they shared that it had been decided (by a 3/4 vote) we would all be going to Catalan Bay today. Fab, I thought, and wondered if that big rock on the beach was still there; for some reason it reminded me of those Famous Five stories written by Enid Blyton – even though the only Enid Blyton book I had ever read was the Rub-a-dub Mystery.
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“Alan the taxi is booked for half-nine so you need to eat something before we go because we don’t know if there are any eateries over there” Carol advised (firmly because she knew I wasn’t fond of breakfast). As I reluctantly bunged a couple of slices of bread into the toaster Carols ‘sonic ear’ picked up me muttering (‘Of course there’ll be eateries there, this is Gibraltar not the back of beyond’) and responded “I heard that!”. 

Somehow I forced the toast down between coffees just as the taxi arrived at reception.

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Driving over to Catalan Bay was quite an eye opener in terms of being able to have a closer look at some of the newer developments; even though I’d already trekked around and seen some of those high-rises I still found the scale of building staggering. As we drove along there were times when both the sea and the Rock were totally out of sight and so with no reference point I had no idea where I was. I think Carol just thought she had been beamed up somehow and dumped into a driver-less yellow cab that was manically manoeuvring itself through New York City. I must admit some of it did look a bit ‘Big Apple’; at one point there were so many high rise apartment blocks they started to look (to me) like an abstract version of the stalagmites in St.Michaels Cave.

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Gibraltarian readers of my memoir have often asked (out of curiosity) what I think of the changes that have taken place in Gibraltar during my forty year absence and I’m always mindful of not offending anyone because for some people they’ve been positive and for others they haven’t. If I thought about it rationally I suppose (whether we like it or not) change is necessary to keep up with the times; I only have to look at my own hometown of Newcastle to see that the North East industry on the Tyne has vanished at the expense of a beautiful quayside oozing culture from every pore. Although my childhood days were more like halcyon days fishing on the Tyne between the bone yard and the docks, my adult days are just as blessed as I walk the quayside market on a Sunday morning – albeit that market being very much smaller these days. 

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To get back to the point of Gibraltar I would say I absolutely love some of the newer outdoor developments like Commonwealth Park and the Marina – and I could never deny the benefit of quality housing for local people even it is up in the air. I’d be a hypocrite if I said I wouldn’t love to have one. But I’m also someone who has an absolute love of (and an emotional attachment to) the Old Town and the beaches and would hope that progress doesn’t interfere too much with those lovely traditional aspects of Gibraltar that keeps people coming back. Perhaps my perspective on development comes from being an artist; when I paint I have to know when to stop and say this work is finished because to continue would ruin the painting. Fortunately Gibraltar is the most beautiful place and I doubt if any future development could ever change that.

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As the taxi pulled over at Catalan Bay I was thrilled to see it looked almost exactly as I’d left it and with even more eateries than I remembered (or could have dreamed of). Apart from the fact that Caleta Palace looked as though it could use a paint job it hadn’t changed one iota and hey – Enid Blyton’s Rock hadn’t gone anywhere either.

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