Taking a bus ride in a country you don’t live in is the most organic of experiences because (for the duration of the journey) you’re sampling a new culture close up while sitting in a seat next to local people; whenever I’ve done it (in well over a dozen countries) I’ve loved it for the pure wonder and privilege of being able to share the lives (albeit briefly) of people from a different world to my own.

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I think my fascination with ‘people-watching’ (particularly from buses and trains) began back in the seventies when I would be returning to my ship after a period of home leave. Inevitably it would be night-time when I was travelling and I remember looking (enviously) out of the window into people’s front rooms at families as they all sat watching television, eating snacks, chatting, laughing and just being families. Further down the line I would see curtains being drawn and lights being switched off while I still had hundreds of miles and hours of travel in front with the sole prospect of arriving back at my ship an hour before I was due to start work having had no sleep all night.

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The views from the bus window between Europa to Alameda were a wonderful contrast of the familiar with the none familiar; as we winded our way through a variety of mini communities I thrived on looking up a different set of back streets at ordinary people doing ordinary things. I vaguely think the route took us past (what was once) the Royal Naval Hospital which is now (I’m reliably told by reader MG – thank you) a hospital for patients with Alzheimer’s and dementia and then eventually down the hill to Alameda Gardens where I alighted.

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As I rapidly close in on the end of my memoirs (having only four more posts to write) part of me is really sad that my ‘hour a day in Gibraltar’ is about to come to an abrupt end; but another part of me is very proud to have been able to recall and capture so many wonderful memories of a place I hold so dear in my heart.

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