As I left the Art Gallery I felt more inspired than I had in years. Over the course of my life I’d staged many one-man exhibitions but these were only really possible because they had all been inspired by very powerfully emotive underlying, autobiographical themes and were more about the exorcism of painful memories than the art itself. Since my last exhibition (Journeys End 1995) no other theme had come anywhere near even tempting me to pick up a paintbrush again. Until now. 

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(Detail from Early Days – Boy from Stonehaugh – from Journeys End exhibition 1995. Alan Dixon. My private collection)
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Inspired (at the thought of ‘possibly’ painting a series of positive themed pictures to compliment RockHeart) I almost danced my way up the street towards the Old Town. With my mind in overdrive I’d already decided the works (if I did them) would be acrylic on canvas in my favourite primary colours and include scenes of Catalan Bay, the apes, the back streets, the Med Steps and more. 

In a brief moment of doubt I remembered (apart from it being over twenty years since I’d painted a picture) my hands were now quite arthritic and so I wondered whether I could even hold a paintbrush let alone drive it to create a dozen paintings. Having said that I’m no writer yet have now written 120 posts for RockHeart and so why not?

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Not far past the Art Gallery (on the next parallel road further up the Rock) I came across a Moroccan restaurant called Marrakesh which had been newly commissioned. Although I wasn’t overly mad about Moroccan food Carol certainly was; she’d hoped to revisit Tangiers during our holiday but that wasn’t possible because of time restraints and so I knew she would love to have a meal out there. Since we were eating out at Queensway Quay this evening I figured she would enjoy to go there tomorrow night and so I photographed the place and the menu before moving on.

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One of the amazing things about Gibraltar today, I’ve found, is that even when you are walking amongst the old there is also often something very new to see; after leaving the Marrakech I’d expected to continue on into the narrower streets of the Old Town but ended up in another quite newly developed spacious seating area that seemed to fit in with its older surroundings. Later in the week when I revisited the area it was lovely to see it all lit up with electric lights.

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Continuing on my walkabout some of the streets, although incredibly quiet, could have come straight out of London City Centre they were so Georgian and pristine; some of them looked as though they housed the offices of solicitors, accountants and the like, maybe they did, and so it was quite refreshing to come across the Gibraltar Senior Citizens Social Club. What was even more refreshing was the notice on the outside welcoming visiting senior citizens though sadly the club was shut otherwise I’d love to have become an ‘Honorary Visiting Wrinkly’. If any members are reading please do add my name to your members register and I’ll call in and sign it as soon as I return. Thank you 🙂

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One of my most satisfying pastimes is to walk incognito (or anonymously) around places where no-one knows me so that I can quietly observe my surroundings and the people in my vicinity. That’s not to say I don’t like meeting new people or bumping into people that I know it’s just sometimes I find being unknown is very creative because (selfishly) I can absorb without having to give anything out. Within my profession (social care) much of my time is spent with people and so it’s very much a treat to have time on my own; in UK sitting on a bench in the middle of a shopping area is more than just my guilty secret, it’s my absolute indulgence, and many an hour has been spent people-watching from the bench outside Gibraltar’s Marks and Spencer.

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(Gibraltar Main Street. A ‘people-watchers’ dream)

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As I left the Bristol and walked up towards Main Street I paused on the corner when I heard children singing in a room upstairs; ‘Row, row, row the boat gently down the stream…’. 

Just leaning against the wall listening to the children was wonderful but it was also a stark reminder that my days in Gibraltar were now numbered; only last week I was singing that very song with children in my day job and would probably be singing it again to them in less than a weeks time. Not wanting to wait until the song ended I continued on down Main Street with the sound of the children’s voices happily singing away and gently fading as the distance between us grew.  

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(The road to Gibraltar Art Gallery)

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As I strolled down Main Street I could see that my beloved bench (outside Marks and Spencer) was occupied by whom I would affectionately term ‘wrinklies’ (in other words people of the same age as me) no doubt doing exactly what I would be doing if I was sat there – ‘people-watching’. Almost on impulse I decided to just take a right turn up towards the Old Town and was delighted to come across The Gibraltar Art Gallery.

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The Art Gallery was a small affair but was very much in celebration of local artists. The works on display were wonderfully varied including contemporary collections, abstract pieces and work focused specifically on images of the Rock. Mediums were varied too with oil and acrylic paintings, screen prints, sketches and more. 

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Looking around the Gallery I loved all of the pieces and found them to be a massive inspiration. In my mind I had already decided to begin writing this memoir (RockHeart) as soon as I returned to UK but never (in a million years) did I think I would ever paint again since I hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in twenty years. And it had been forty years since I had sketched the Rock. But as I near the end of my writing I look forward more and more to once again creating images; images that complement RockHeart and that mean something to me. Paintings, drawings and sketches of Gibraltar. And, who knows, maybe one day it will be my paintings hanging up in Gibraltar’s Art Gallery.

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Stepping off the cable car when it finally landed I was aware of Carol and Sheila chattering away – although I don’t normally pay much attention unless I hear a key word (for example lunch, dinner, snacks) and as we walked down towards Trafalgar roundabout I heard a key word. 

“We need to think about LUNCH” said Carol to which I immediately spun round and whispered “Jury’s?” before spinning back and nonchalantly continuing my stroll. It was a bit like planting a seed. 

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Convinced she had thought of the idea herself Carol continued “How about Jury’s, we loved the food and their service – and they were really good about looking after my camera after I left it there”. With nods of approval all round we continued on down Main Street, pausing only to admire the guard at the Convent before finally plonking ourselves down at a table outside Jury’s.

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Even before a waiter had come out I noticed a gorgeous dog chilling out by the table next to ours which turned out to be a rescue dog. His owner had popped into Jury’s and he was quite happy to sit outside and wait for him to come back. One of the things I’ve loved seeing in Gibraltar during this holiday was so many people walking their dogs (often up Main Street at night) and when I’ve spoken with the owners most of their animals are rescue dogs. It’s a theme very close to my heart as my own dog Mowgli who I brought back from India (of all places) was a rescue dog and who has been my constant companion ever since giving me infinite pleasure now for 9 years. Long may Gibraltarians continue to enjoy the company of their beautiful rescue dogs.

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Browsing through the menu we all felt that since we were going to a fancy restaurant this evening on Queensway Quay for dinner our lunches should really be more of a modest affair. However, since we all had the will power of a gnat (and made the excuse that the morning had been particularly long and challenging) that’s not quite how it worked out. 

Without a guilty thought in site the four of us (hit the trough) indulging in cheese burgers, chips chicken and pasta (all of which was top notch and fabulous – as we had come to expect from Jury’s) before rolling back to the Bristol where my companions decided they all needed to take their daily siesta and so I waved them all off to bed. Not being one who does siesta, I turned on my heels and within minutes was where I was most comfortable. On walkabout.

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By the time I got to Carol she was naturally shocked and very upset and in quite a bit of pain so we swiftly took ourselves up to the cafe for support. My immediate concerns were around infection and so the quicker she was seen to the better; I suppose I was also really concerned that the incident hadn’t marred her day out too much or worse still her holiday but I wasn’t going to find that out just yet.
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(Carol with her war wounds)

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The minute we walked into the cafe the staff were immediately attentive in coming over to us, steering us to a table and ensuring we were all as comfortable as possible; the first aid box was swiftly brought to our table and Carols wounds were duly cleaned and checked. Before long the ‘Head Honch’ appeared from somewhere and (although a bit irritating in the way he tried to laugh the incident down) he did reassure us that these ‘small’ attacks were common and not too much to worry about. Just at the point he looked as though he was about to perhaps question Carol on her common sense in wearing a short-sleeved top I think he caught my eye and offered us all free drinks; to which I suggested perhaps a biscuit would be nice too?

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Not long after the drinks had arrived we were all a lot calmer and Carols wounds (though still painful) were at least well cleaned and unlikely to become infected. As we sat chatting (and slowly getting round to smiling about it all) the Head Honch returned to check we were all okay and we thanked him (and his staff) for his support. 

Actually I thought he was a very funny man (which always endears me to people) but what was even funnier about him was his almost ‘Manuel (of Faulty Towers fame) approach’ – or how he could stifle his laugh and appear serious and professional whenever he realised he had overstepped the mark and his customer not thinking he was funny. When I told my granddaughter about him she responded by saying “LMAO” whatever that means.

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After tea we left the cafe and went straight back to the apes for Carol to take more (close up) photographs of the apes???!!! 

“Are you sure!” says I. “Has it not put you off?”. 

In receiving no answer I gathered that it hadn’t put her off, it hadn’t spoiled her day and hadn’t spoiled her holiday at all and that was good enough for me. 

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In the cable car on the way back down the Rock the lady looked happy and chilled; she had faced her nemesis and mastered her cable car fear, she had taken the close up photos that she was really happy with and most of all could almost smile about her incident. And as she smiled so did the apes as they waved us off.

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The views from the top of the Rock truly are staggering – as speaks a man who has seen many a fabulous view on his travels around the world. As already mentioned (and I don’t care if sound repetitive and boring with this one) on a 360 degree turn viewers can enjoy the most awesome images not only of Gibraltar but also of both Spain and Africa too. 

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Being on the terrace at the top reminded me of being at the top of the Med Steps in that it wasn’t somewhere I wanted to leave anytime soon (on account of me loving it, loving it, loving it) but as Carol, Sheila and Joe moved onwards towards the apes I duly followed on.

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Stepping out into the apes domain was a wonderful blast from the past, everywhere I looked there were monkeys in the frame either feeding their faces, playing with their friends or being mischievous with the visitors. It took me back to the first time we took the children to see the apes only this time it was me feeling like a big kid full of excitement instead of them. To see these beautiful little animals living happy and free in their own habitat is very rewarding and to share that experience for a short time is an absolute privilege. But however placid and playful these little macaques appear they are (at the end of the day) wild animals and can attack. And one did.

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For a time I was leaning on a wall looking down at an area about ten foot below where half a dozen young apes were feeding on fruit; periodically I’d look up to watch the parent apes as they sat high above on a rooftop enjoying the views in the lunchtime sun. Sheila and Joe were nearby strolling up a slope to get a closer look at an ape that was sitting, posing on a wall while Carol (camera at the ready) was walking down a slope to try for close up pictures of some of the other individuals. 

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What we didn’t know (at this point) was that the very first baby ape of the year had been born that morning and so the troop were naturally nervous. What we were also unaware of was that two of the senior males had had a serious fight shortly before we arrived, one of whom had apparently needed medical attention which also added to the tension and increased the anxiety of the other troop members. 

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Looking down the slope I saw Carol about twenty feet away focusing her camera on an ape a few feet away from her; several other apes were nearby which made me feel very uncomfortable so I began making my way slowly toward her but I was never going to get to her in time. In a split second a young female (we later found out was on heat) had jumped on Carol and bit her on the arm; seconds later it jumped on her for a second time digging its nails into her other arm…..

After stepping out of the cable car at the top of the Rock everyone (for some bizarre reason) needed to visit the loo; I’m not sure if it was the change in altitude or on account of them drinking too many cups of tea at breakfast but first stop, the loo it was. Although I didn’t need the loo I’m really glad the others did because otherwise I would have missed the chance of seeing a really cool sign outside the door; (I’ve never denied having a warped sense of humour).

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Somehow (though I’m not sure how) our appointment with the apes was further delayed when we all ended up on the upper terrace looking out at the summit and the beautiful views around the Rock. I think what happened was that one of us (who had no idea where they were going) led the way from the loo and the rest of us (like sheep) followed…..I’m not even sure if it wasn’t me 🙂 What was really nice was being able to catch a shot of Sheila and Joe as they looked over towards Spain; although it isn’t a country I’ve ever been to Sheila has fond memories of many a holiday there.

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Standing on the terrace Carol was in good spirits having mastered her fear of the cable car (and even having enjoyed the ride up); continuing taking advantage of her new found confidence she wasted no time getting to work with her camera and taking some great shots of the peak and surrounding areas. Throughout my memoir I’ve tried to use only photographs I’ve taken myself but perhaps (at the end) as an appendix I will include a page of the photos Carol took because they are very fabulous.

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Although Carol seemed to have got over her fear of heights I think Sheila and Joe were still struggling with a bit of vertigo. I noticed when I took a series of photos of the three of them that both Sheila and Joe seemed to be clinging on to Carol as though they were going to fall down the water catchment but it was lovely to see them both manage a smile as they clung on.

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It is quite weird sensation being so high up and leaning against a relatively flimsy railing; somehow Carol talked me into posing for a shot and I think the only reason I was smiling was because my heart was in my mouth forcing my face to stretch into a grin shape. Uncomfortable with that photo I took my customary selfie for my Twitter page with the area around Commonwealth Park in the background (although the background isn’t especially clear). I figured this new selfie would compliment the one of me at the top of the Med Steps and so I only had the North Front summit to climb and decided I’d have a go at that later in the week. Meanwhile I was late for an appointment with some very furry friends.

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