Category Archives: Memoirs of Gibraltar

3:14 (2016) Can’t sit pondering on the Steps all day…need to go ponder in Alameda

23 Friday Sep 2016

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As I walked down from St.Michael’s Cabin to Jews gate in the lovely warm sunshine it wasn’t long before I found myself back in the middle of a crowd of people, some of them having a break between laps of the Med Steps, others there to support the participants. Finally back where I started (a few hours before) I was duly ‘awarded’ my CR (Cancer Relief) stamp on my wristband in recognition of my lowly lap. Of course many people were out to achieve the full banana award of five stamps (which I thought would be an amazing achievement) but for me I was really pleased to have my one stamp and to have been a small part of an amazing event. With my Med Steps Challenge over I began my final walk back (sshhh…feeling just a little bit proud of myself).
(My lowly single CR stamp is a treasure to me)

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The walk down the Rock was as lovely as the climb up and just a little bit easier on this old mans knees. As I made my way down the road (periodically pausing to soak up the tranquility) I wondered if local people ever just got to the point (perish the thought) of taking their environment for granted because they saw it every day; whether they had any sort of urge to spend time away in another country? 

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(The road to Alameda)

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Almost as soon as that thought entered my head I threw it out; of course they go abroad to study or to work for periods of time, because needs-must, but then – they come home. The idea that they would permanently emigrate seemed just a step to far to me (even obscene); for the life of me I couldn’t imagine anyone in Gibraltar wanting to swop their life for mine in wet Wales regardless of any incentive. 


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Ponderings and musings over I carried on down eventually leaving the Upper Rock Nature Reserve and on a direct course for one of my all time favourite paradises (if there is such a plural), Alameda Gardens. Looking back up the road and seeing others on their way to the Steps you could say I was (just a little bit) envious and sorely tempted to go back and do another lap. But even if I’d had the energy (which I doubt) I knew myself well – I’d just be up there for hours sat down somewhere still pondering and I didn’t really have the time to do any more of that. (Because I had such a lot of sit-downs and pondering a to do in Alameda 🙂 ).


(With Alameda behind)

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3:13 (2016) St.Michael’s Cabin revisted after 40 years

22 Thursday Sep 2016

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In adding a few more memories (to what I now refer to as ‘My Gibraltar’) I naturally tapped into my old ones (as points of reference) in beginning my week on the Rock. After spending quite a considerable time at the summit I finally decided to begin my walk down and one of the first places I encountered was St.Michaels Cabin. 

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(2016 St.Michael’s Cabin)

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Readers will know that the Cabin was the very first place I took Carol to for a meal when she flew out to join me in 1976 (see blog 2:15 St.Michaels Cabin) and so I held the place in very high esteem and as a special place in our lives. Prior to flying out (on this occasion in 2016) I’d done some research (because I’d hoped to take Carol back there again for a meal) but found that the Cabin was no longer what it was as its designation had changed from a restaurant to a cafe.

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Back in 1976 the Cabin was truly a lovely restaurant serving bespoke meals in an enchanting environment. All these years later I still remember the fabulous French onion soup (to die for) served to the sound of live musicians playing beautiful instrumentals in the background. The lights were low, the ambience was beyond words and the views from the little windows were mind bogglingly beautiful.

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Standing outside the Cabin and looking at it as it is today, quite unkempt (to me) and commercialised, was by far one of my saddest of experiences in years. I found it impossible to reconcile how such an amazingly situated venue overlooking both Gibraltar and Spain could decline so and be allowed to be reduced to a glorified ice cream shop. 

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Not able to bear the thought of going inside, or even remaining any longer, I took my leave (lump in throat) and continued down the Rock towards the town. Thankfully the St Michaels Cabin image and ambience I had stored away in the memory bank of ‘My Gibraltar’ was the 1976 version; and on this occasion I preferred to cherish the past over the present.


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3:12 (2016) ‘My Gibraltar’

22 Thursday Sep 2016

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I learned a long time ago that I don’t need to know all of this worlds secrets or how everything works; I’m quite happy to leave that to those who do. The idea that less than 24 hours ago I was driving up a lorry- laden, wet motorway from Wales to Birmingham and now find myself at the top of Gibraltar in beautifully warm sunshine is a prime example of something I can love and wonder about but have no desire to examine for the whys and where fors.
(Over towards Spain)

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I had a similar experience years ago when I flew out to Singapore (from RAF Brize Norton) and stopped en-route at Gan. When the Captain said he was about to land our massive Hercules aircraft on Gan I looked out the window and thought he must be joking; I’d seen bigger aircraft carriers than Gan. I didn’t even know there was such a place, but down we went and somehow he landed this humongous thing on what looked like a little piece of grass – even more weird was finding out they had frogs the size of dogs. (Sorry I’m diversifying)…(again).


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How I arrived at the top of Gibraltar (from Wales) is irrelevant really but of the (many) amazing things about it the views are just something else; instead of just being able to look in one direction (as I had on the way up) I could now do a 360* degree turn and look in every direction. And as well as the awesome closeup views I had of Gibraltar the distant ones of Spain and Africa just reminded me of how puny I am (and everyone else is) in the scale of things. It’s probably one of the most sobering places in the world for someone to go who has arrived at a point in their life when they may feel they are more important than other people and get a free wake-up call to bring them down to earth.


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I’m not sure how long I sat up there at the summit (pondering my connection with this beautiful place) but it must have been some time because my travelling companions had long since legged it to do another circuit. I was starting to think that if I didn’t clear off soon they would be catching me up and overtaking me again. 


(Royal Naval Hospital, Centre, where my daughter Benita was born 1977)

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As I’d looked down on familiar places like Edinburgh House, the Royal Naval Hospital and the dockyard I’d finally begun to get my head into a place I was comfortable with. I may not be Gibraltarian by birth but that was becoming less important. With so many memories, experiences and connections spanning over forty years I’d come to the conclusion it was those things (that were so deeply ingrained and ensconced in my heart and mind) not the literal Rock that made up ‘My Gibraltar’. The concept that everyone who had ever visited Gibraltar (even if for just a day as part of a Mediterranean cruise) could refer to that experience as ‘My Gibraltar’ gave me massive peace of mind; and on that note I stood up and began making my way back down the other side of the Rock to add a few more memories and experiences to ‘My Gibraltar’.


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3:11 (2016) At the top of the Rock I’m on top of the world

20 Tuesday Sep 2016

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Climbing the Med Steps is one of those things you just don’t want to end, in fact if I’d taken a picnic with me I’d probably have stayed up there all day. Just sitting down and looking out at the incredible views was enough to take me away from all of the humdrum things in life we suffer from in order to survive (work, bills and bad weather spring to mind); I wasn’t sure whether I’d landed in Narnia or Utopia but couldn’t care less – I was just happy to be in the moment and sit.
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As I sat enjoying the views with the warm sun on my face some of the slower walkers/climbers went by me grunting and sweating; it was reassuring to hear a few other knees clicking as well as my own. “You’re nearly at the top” someone said as though they thought I was struggling. “I know. But it will still be there in five minutes or so” I replied, knowing that as soon as I reached the top it would be all over and I would be making my way back down again on the other side away from the views I was currently enjoying.


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Soaking up the beautiful view of Catalan Bay, Caleta Palace and Eastern Beach I managed to get what I thought was a great photo of the scene which was completed with birds flying in the skies above; having said that I’m not really the best photographer in the world and only have a phone camera but was happy (and very lucky) to capture the image. What happens is that when I take a photo in the sun I’m not able to check it until I’m indoors somewhere because my vision isn’t very good and it’s even worse looking at a black phone screen in the sun. Meanwhile I continued to sit back and ponder.

(Caleta Palace, Catalan Bay and Eastern Beach)

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Displacement as a child from my home town of Newcastle is something that has often pained me over the years and sometimes left me forever grappling to attach ‘somewhere’. For a few years I lived in India and whilst there I did connect on some levels but in honesty so much of their varied cultures were just so alien to me; it got to the point that in one day I would meet people from so many different walks of life, ethnic backgrounds and religions (speaking so many different languages) that I just couldn’t relate to people on that many levels. Currently I live in Wales which is Carols homeland and though it is a beautiful country with gorgeous views there are times when I struggle with the culture, the lifestyle and the politics among other things. Although I’ve lived here for two years now (since I retired from social services) I wouldn’t say I am particularly emotionally connected. 

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Including Gibraltar I’ve lived in four different countries and so I guess I’m a bit of a nomad though as I mentioned earlier in my memoirs I love the idea that all of my children were born in a different country. I guess at my age I’ll always have that feeling of being displaced and not belonging but if there’s anywhere in this world that I don’t feel that way and feel a very strong connection to its Gibraltar. I thank God for that.


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“Come on Alan get up here for your Top of the Rock photo” a voice came down from the top from one of the women who had been doing the course with me. I climbed the last few steps to the top, stretched out like the Angel of the North, took a deep breath of fresh air and felt on top of the world.


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3:10 (2016) Every step was one into a new world I hadn’t been into before

18 Sunday Sep 2016

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Built by the British the Med Steps were originally designed as part of their military communications system and to allow access to their various defence posts on the southern side of the Rock (Wikipedia); today, however, after being restored in 2007 they are now used by civilians as a pedestrian route to access amazing views over the Straits and of Gibraltar’s Eastern beaches as well as Europa Point and beyond.
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The Med Steps are also such a wonderful place to ‘just be’; to be yourself, to be you, or in my case to be me. Like most people much of my life is spent being someone or something for someone else whether that’s as an employee, a parent, a sibling, a spouse, a friend, the list is endless. Though all of those relationships are very much a blessing to me I still cherish ‘me-time’ (when I can get it) and where better to spend a bit of solitude than on the Med Steps under a Mediterranean sun. 


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As I lay back and pondered (to the sound of tweeting birds and the occasional wave) thinking I’d died and gone to heaven someone suddenly said: “Excuse me, can you take our photo please?”. Two young women on the challenge wanted the first of many photos taken on their way round; I know it was the first of many because I took quite a few more of them later in the route. Having said that they too took photos of me (including my RockHeart profile photo seen at the top of every post – and by the time we all eventually get to the top we do become fair friends who I’m still in touch with today). For now though I took their photo with Europa Point in the background and they then shot off (wearing all the latest climbing gear) leaving me to continue my bumbling onwards and upwards dressed in chop-offs, badly fitting sandals, a ‘Why Aye Man’ tee shirt and a hat.


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Naturally many people doing the challenge that day were locals who knew the route like the back of their hand and judging by the way they overtook me they were doing the challenge against the clock. For me though every step was one into a new world that I’d never been into before and I wasn’t about to blink and miss it. Whenever I heard athletes behind me I just stepped to the side to let them charge past but moreover I spent most of the time just sitting down and soaking up the views. Every view I looked at invoked a different emotion which (in that environment) I was able to examine safely; I sat down next to wild poppies for a while which (apart from being my absolute favourite little flower) reminded me of my birth father who had survived being shot in the head during WW2 only to develop schizophrenia as a result of it. Looking out at the ships passing by reminded me of my own ten years service in the Royal Navy and some of the amazing countries I had visited during that time. 


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Periodically my two new ‘friends’ would either wait for me to catch up (to take their photo) or offer to push me when the going started to get a bit tough – for example when the steps were so deep I had my knees in my mouth. The blend of ‘me-time’ to myself and shared time with others was really nice; as well as having the space to examine deep seated feelings I also felt as though other people were watching out for me and that I ‘sort of’ belonged? Feeling like I ‘sort of’ belonged was better than feeling like I didn’t; in fact it was very touching.


(RockHeart Profile photo)

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If I’d never been to Gibraltar in my life and suddenly found myself up on the Med Steps looking down on the Eastern beaches I’d think I was in a dream; and so to be revisiting after 40 YEARS to find it was still the paradise I had left behind was a moment so special to me I find it difficult to put into words. And so I won’t even try. On this occasion you’ll just have to take my word for it.

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3:9 (2016) All Gibraltarians are British but all Brits are not Gibraltarian.

16 Friday Sep 2016

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The MedSteps2016 Challenge is an annual charity event organised by members of the Gibraltar Prison Service to raise money for Cancer Relief. This year was its second year and the idea is that those taking part climb the steps (meaning they do the circuit of going up the steps then back down the road to the start) five times. Each time a lap is completed the climber gets a CR stamp on a wristband they had been issued. Everyone taking part pays £10 which is how the cash is raised for Cancer Relief.
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For weeks before I flew out to Gibraltar I’d been reading on social media about how people were preparing for the event. Awards for the best individual, the best team and the best effort were to be given and so many people were practicing the course in their spare time to improve their performance. Not wanting to show-up any of these fit dudes with my own speed and stamina (yeah right) I made the decision weeks before the event that I would only be doing one circuit (slowly) and that I would use the opportunity to view my old friend (the Rock); I would also take some snazzy photos. Actually apart from the fact that I couldn’t remember how long or how difficult the challenge was I’m not sure my knees would have gone round more than once anyway but after paying my tenner and being given my wrist band I was happy enough to just take part.


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Although I wasn’t quite sure what I was in for I eventually set off and (as I did) one of the thoughts going through my mind was a story I had read recently about a young girl with cerebral palsy who had successfully completed the course; if I needed any inspiration at all she was it. But I didn’t need any inspiration at all because from the very first step I was where I wanted to be, on my way up the Rock, on my own, blessed with the time to see, to think and to reflect on all of those things in my mind which now (hopefully) sit at peace within the first two chapters of these memoirs. It wasn’t more than a few minutes after setting off that I found myself looking out at a breath-taking view of Europa Point and so sat down awhile to ponder as I admired it.


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In writing RockHeart I’d hoped to express the very deep affection I have for Gibraltar and from some of the many comments and emails I’ve received I do feel I’ve achieved that in a few quarters. Having said that although we are all British – (something Gibraltar is extremely proud of and protective of) – the people of the Rock are also uniquely Gibraltarian which is a very special identity in its own right and one I wholly admire and endorse. 

Whatever affection I may have for the Rock and her people will never make me Gibraltarian; neither will the fact that I lived there and have a child born there make me Gibraltarian. But to the lovely reader that referred to me as an ‘Honorary Gibbo’ I thank you sincerely (ND) and take the comment as a welcome compliment 🙂 My feelings for the people of the Rock have always been very well documented though I do have days of self doubt when I feel like a gate crasher and so that comment made my day. Thank you.


(Europa Point, Gibraltar from the Med Steps)

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Everyone who did the MedSteps challenge that day had their own reasons and agendas for doing so. As I looked out over Europa point and the African continent my own reasons were becoming more and more clear. I wondered if I would ever sit in this place again.

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3:8 (2016) Day 1. “Alan wake up! You’re doing the Med Steps.

15 Thursday Sep 2016

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Our first evening ended with night caps in the hotel bar by the pool which was accessed by a sort of flyover walkway; you went through a door from the lounge, up some stairs and then across the street via a glass walkway before descending some more stairs into the bar which was situated in the Bristol’s own private walled garden. That routine would become a regular one throughout the week as a sort of last stop oasis whenever we got back from wherever we’d been. Eventually by the time I ‘hit the sack’ on that first night I was totally cream-crackered. Next thing I knew it was morning!

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I’m not especially good first thing in the morning; my eyes have a tendency of waking up long before my body which always needs a really hot shower to get the old muscles and bones moving. Some of that is about age and arthritis but some of it is also about being someone who totally loves bed, particularly when I wake up in the mornings. Sometimes it can take me a while to drift off at night (because of discomfort/pain in my shoulder) but then (what I find criminal) when I wake up in the morning is that I’m at my absolute most comfortable as though I’ve mounded into the mattress and (although I have a great reluctance to move) I have to get out.

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“Alan! Wake up! You’re doing the Med Steps Challenge today. Alan!!”. 

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After being unceremoniously evicted from my nice warm bed onto the floor it crossed my mind that for a slim woman, thirteen days older than me, she still packed a clout though looking up at the ceiling the penny slowly began to drop – ‘YES!’. After months of looking at that poster above my desk at work – (that one taken from up the Rock with loads of sunshine beaming down) – I was FINALLY going to climb the MedStepsChallenge TODAY!
“Don’t think you’re going anywhere without a good breakfast in your belly first and don’t forget to take your water” Carol continued.

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Breakfast at the Bristol was a simple help-yourself affair with toast, cereal, fruit and yogurts which suited me really well because traditionally I don’t eat much till lunchtime. However to keep the peace I managed to rammed down a couple of slices of toast followed by a tea and a coffee and just as I was digesting it all the reception lady called over to me that my taxi had arrived. Carol, Sheila and Joe had decided to spend the morning relaxing and sun-bathing by the pool and so as I departed they all bid me farewell and good luck with the kind of look on their faces that suggested I was as mad as a box of frogs; relatively speaking I think they would all rather have stuck pins in their eyes than climb Gibraltar although by the same token they all knew how much it meant to me.


Sitting in the taxi as it wound its way up to Jews Gate was about as good as it could get for me; even a lottery win would have faded into boring compared to that. Passing so many familiar places was such a reassuring experience and seeing new developments was so exciting too – particularly because I thought the ‘modern’ blended in so well with the ‘old’. Seeing so many new high rises reminded me of Hong Kong which (like Gibraltar) only had one development choice and that too was upwards. My initial feeling was a sort of positive fascination with the hope that most of the Old Town hadn’t been touched.


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Ten minutes after leaving the Bristol we arrived at Jews Gate where the crowds were a-gathering and some discerning climbers had already set off on their first lap. As I got out of the taxi and morphed into one of the crowd I felt a total sense of belonging.


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3:7(2016) The Angry Friar

13 Tuesday Sep 2016

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Eventually we got our room keys and bumbled on up to unpack and settle in; the whole place was a bit like #DavidBowie’s Labyrinth with corridors and staircases leading everywhere. It took me a few attempts to find my way from reception to our room and back. But what was lovely was that the retro style in the foyer wasn’t just reserved for downstairs, it was all over the hotel; on occasions when I got lost up the wrong corridor I would find myself looking at an exquisite painting on a wall depicting a view of the Rock in days gone by. The whole building had really been nurtured.

(View from my hotel window)

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Looking out from my room window was to look directly at the Cathedral with the Rock to my left and the new Commonwealth Park to my right (although naturally I couldn’t see the grass as this was lower down – plus I didn’t even know that park existed yet). The room itself was quite nice too with easily accessible wardrobes and its own mini en-suite; it was simple but (for me) perfect! After unpacking my bag and having a shower I did take the opportunity to check out my bed with a few bounces and decided it was perfect too; having said that as an old sailor who has slept on everything from a suitcase to a railway station I’m not the most discerning and so to me any old mattress would have passed the audition.

(Carol outside the Bristol)

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It must have been about 8.30pm by the time the four of us had rested, scrubbed up and met in the foyer ready to go foraging for food; it had been a long old hike for us all when considering the driving as well as the flight – our road trip alone had been four hours up to Birmingham from Wales and so I guess we were all ready for some sit down and pampering. As we came out of the Bristol and up onto Main Street I naturally went right and everyone just followed; I just thought The Angry Friar isn’t far and so we could sit outside and soak up a bit of atmosphere while some nice person went off and brought us four platefuls of whatever. 
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As we walked past the bookshop I glanced in the window at the many books on display telling the History of Gibraltar, the Battle of Trafalgar and the contribution of (both) the Royal Navy (and the apes) to the safety of the Rock. What also caught my eye were the myriad of journals produced by local people depicting their ‘love of their homeland’ either through words, paintings or prose and I found these particularly touching – especially seeing so many offerings from such a small community. At the time I knew I would soon be writing my own memoirs of Gibraltar and so as well as the books in the window being very touching, they were also very inspiring to me; I wondered if one day someone else would walk past that bookshop window and see a copy of my RockHeart?

(Carol with Sheila and Joe ordering their meal)

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At some point we crossed Convent Place and found a free table outside the Angry Friar where I took a few photos of my three companions. Sitting at the table I looked up at the accommodation above the pub and reflected back to 1976 when I had applied to rent it for my family but it failed the Navy inspection. Glancing around at some of the other tables outside the pub took me back even earlier to 1974 when I was on my way out to the Far East aboard HMS Scylla; one memorable evening saw one well-oiled matelot get up onto one of the tables and entertain the gathered with a ‘Zulu Warrior’ (striptease).

(Sheila and Joe)

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“Alan the waiter is waiting for your order” Carols voice brought me back to the present day, “We’ve all ordered and now we’re waiting for you”. “Oh sorry love, I was miles away, yes please fish and chips” I replied. It was the first meal of our stay and (even though I would have been happy to sit outside the Friar and eat raw squid) my fish and chips were really lovely. As a (boring) non-drinker, non-smoker I do love nice meals out (and good cups of tea) and so it was a great start to the week. The week! Even just saying ‘the week’ brought an immediate touch of reality to the fact that I would only be in Gibraltar for one week and so had to make the most of every day. Just acknowledging that then made my stomach sink. And just writing that did the same thing because it reminds me these memoirs are very close to coming to their end.

(View from the Angry Friar)

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For now though as the day ended tomorrow, day one, was on my mind. It was the MedStepsChallenge.

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3:6 (2016) The Bristol Hotel, Gibraltar.

11 Sunday Sep 2016

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The Bristol Hotel (Wikipedia tells me) is Gibraltar’s oldest hotel established in 1894 and until 1932 was the flagship hotel of the Rock until the Rock Hotel itself opened in that year. Without going too deeply into the Bristol’s history it was used as the RAF headquarters during WW2 and then for a short time after the war declined as an establishment before coming back into its own again from the 1960s onward following financial investment.


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Looking around, as I stood in the foyer, I felt as though I’d stepped back in time to an era I was familiar with, felt safe in and loved. This beautiful 120 year old building, with its 60 rooms, had retained its lovely retro ambience despite its ‘modernisation’ (receiving a hot water supply, a bigger kitchen and a bigger pool); its beautiful chandeliers and stained glass windows reminded me of Raffles in Singapore where (for some bizarre reason) I ended up in (and which no doubt is the reason the Bristol felt so familiar) although that story is for a different memoir. 


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I’d chosen the Bristol for no other reason than it being close to the town for Joe and Sheila (who are in their 70s and 80s respectively) because they both enjoy to go walkabout when it’s not too far. Carol isn’t in the best of health either and so I knew she too would appreciate being near to Main Street for whenever she wanted to browse the shops or just go for a stroll.


(Images of the Bristol hotel- all my own from May 2016)

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Having been on holiday often as a foursome I knew all three of my fellow travellers loved lolling about around the pool during the day when the weather was warm – and they all knew I preferred to go walkabout and meet the natives – so they were really thrilled at the private subtropical garden with pool and bar. First impressions from all of us on the Bristol Hotel were really positive and those impressions remained with us throughout our stay – not least because the rooms were lovely and the breakfasts were good but also because the staff were very friendly, accommodating and helpful. 


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Speaking of staff when I finally got to the reception desk to check in I began talking to the lady about the Mediterranean Steps Challenge I was doing the following day, or rather she began talking to me. ” Oh sure” she said. “You’ll love it, I do all the time, maybe I do tomorrow too. Take taxi cab to Jews Gate in the morning after breakfast, I will book for you. You want morning call I will give for you. Till then here is your room key, you can fresh up, have nap then eat”. Been a while since I’d been pampered to that degree, but I loved it.

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3:5 (2016) Hello Gibraltar. Good to be back.

10 Saturday Sep 2016

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As the plane took off from Birmingham I suppose I was full of ‘what ifs’ but totally adamant this was the time; this was my time. As the flight crew came around asking me if I’d like coffee or sweets the whole journey began taking on quite a surreal element. I began realising that although this flight was about as massive as it could get for me it was just another day at the office for everyone else; having said that I was thankful I wasn’t too transparent and was able to hide how I felt. Although I’ve spent months writing these memoirs trying to get to the bottom of my feelings in real life I’m really quite painfully shy. 
(Carol)

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I looked over at Carol who was gazing out of the window and wondered what she was thinking; after all it was she and the children (not me) who had made this very same journey forty years ago to the day. I wondered if she was reflecting on that day in 1976 or whether she was more into the present still wondering if she was going to love or hate the changes on the Rock. Just then the same thought passed through my mind – what if I hated the changes? What then? I couldn’t go there.

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“Your drinks Sir” a voice said. As I turned around one of the flight attendants stood smiling at me with a tray of two red wines and two coffees. Her smile was really beautiful (as all flight attendants smiles are) and I wondered if they are taught how to smile like that during their training. No prizes for guessing who the red wines were for as Joe and I settled down with our coffees (and me with my thoughts).

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Some time later as I was coming round from a doze I heard the Captain speaking over the tannoy telling us we were beginning our descent into Gibraltar even though it didn’t seem (to me) as though we’d been in the air five minutes. I think I must have still been conditioned to the long haul flights we used to have to take when commuting back and forth to India but I wasn’t complaining.


I’d never flown into Gibraltar before but was aware of the reputation it had; the short runway sticking out to the sea and the dodgy turn needed to stay out of Spanish airspace. But just as I was pondering all the ‘ifs-and-buts’ ….we landed – in one of the smoothest landings I’ve ever had! When the plane eventually parked and the doors opened I stepped out and looked up. It was almost like a dream come true. I’d finally got back. The lump in my throat felt as though I’d swallowed an apple.


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(Carol and Sheila)

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Passing through the airport terminal was quite a quick process compared to most other countries I’d been to and within about fifteen minutes we were in the transfer vehicle on the way through town to the Bristol Hotel. During the journey my eyes were literally everywhere as I continually asked our driver for clarity on just about everything I saw: “Isn’t that Queensway, isn’t that where the Fleet Pav was?”. I think he was quite relieved when we arrived at the hotel and he was able to kick me out. 


(Washed out and exhausted in the foyer of the Bristol Hotel)

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Standing in the foyer waiting to check in I looked out of the door at the Cathedral where our children were Christened. Although I felt totally washed out and exhausted from the journey as I looked at the Cathedral I was instantly back there (in 1976) and knew my connection to the Rock was as strong as it was on the day I left. It was so good to be back. 

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