Category Archives: tripadvisor

2:48 (1977) HM Queen Elizabeth’s Jubilee Year in Gibraltar

13 Saturday Aug 2016

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1977 was HM Queen Elizabeth’s Jubilee Year and naturally there was a lot going on in Gibraltar. Come to that there is always a lot going on in Gibraltar which makes it such a great place to visit; a basic search on Google would almost certainly flag up the Mediterranean Steps Challenge, the Chess Tournament, the Darts Tournament, Classic Car Rally’s and much more. 
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Back in 1977 one of the events that attracted me was the Art Competition which I did contribute to but didn’t particularly shine at; I still have the artwork I entered and when I viewed it recently I made the decision that it was so dreadful I’m surprised they accepted it all which is why I haven’t published it on this post – and probably won’t post anywhere else anytime soon.

However what was important to me (at that time) wasn’t so much winning a prize but taking part with everyone else and feeling part of it all; learning from the experience was also a massive advantage because the following year I entered a National Art Competition in UK and won it. 


(2016 Gibraltar Art Gallery)

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Thinking back though what I loved about the Gibraltar exhibition was how local people painted and drew their interpretations of the Rock and their beautiful environment with such feeling – something they still do today judging from what I saw when I visited Gibraltar Art Gallery during May 2016. 


(2016 Cable car approaching pylon on a non windy day)

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Carol was born on the Queens birthday (21 April) and as a tribute was given the middle name of Elizabeth by her parents. As I was born 13 days after her (May the Fourth be with you) I often referred to myself as her toy boy – particularly just after her birthday when she was technically a year older than me. That period of time between our two birthdays became known as my Toy Boy Fortnight during which I certainly ‘took the rise’ (tongue in cheek) out of Carol although she did always have the girls coming out in support of her and so I was always outnumbered 🙂


(1977 Carol in St.Michaels Cave)

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It was during my ‘Toy Boy fortnight of 1977’ that we decided to celebrate our joint birthdays with a trip up the Rock to see the apes and visit St.Michaels Cave. Carol was 22 and I was 21 but since she was six months pregnant I was very much in an ‘I will look after you and protect you’ mode although that absolutely didn’t bode well with the independent strong young woman she was who seemed to be on constant playback – “Don’t fuss, I can manage by myself”.


(1977 Carol descending King Charles V Steps)

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So although it was quite a windy day we took the cable car up to the top of the Rock but as we travelled further and further up the wind became worse and worse. By the time we approached one of the pylons our cable car was swinging (almost at right angles) from left to right and it was clear the car was going to hit the pylon. At that the cable car attendant opened the door and used a pole to push the car away from the pylon as we went past it and as he did that Carol found herself literally looking through the open door straight down in terror at Alameda Gardens. When we finally got to the Apes Den and got off the cable car Carol (ashen faced) said that there was no way she was getting back on it.

(1960 King Charles V Steps)

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It took me some time to reassure Carol that we could go back down to the town via King Charles V Steps and that we didn’t need to get back into the cable car; the fright had been such that I have no idea how she didn’t give birth on the spot. Eventually though she did calm down enough to enjoy the visit and also enjoyed the trek back down the Rock via the steps with those breath taking views. But it would be a long time before she got back into the cable car.

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2:46 (1977) Yogi Bear (GIBAIR) to Fez

06 Saturday Aug 2016

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Like most people I’ve always known that if I fell off my bike I’d need to get back on it and the quicker the better; that whole concept is a sort of unspoken rule in life for not accepting failure or that something has beaten you. Getting back on a bike is one thing but getting back into an aircraft for a third flight after two dodgy ones in a row is something else – especially if you are the superstitious type. Clearly Carol wasn’t because even after her recent experiences she was not about to pass up the chance of a Naval Wives Trip to Fez, Morocco and was one of the first to put her name (and mine) down.


(1977 Carol in blue and white top smiling boarding Yogi Bear)

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When the big day came there was about twenty of us waiting at the airport looking over at what was affectionately known (to Naval personnel and their families) as ‘Yogi Bear’. Whether it was true or not I’m unsure but back in 1977 it was said that Gibraltar Airline consisted of just one plane emblazoned ‘GIBAIR’ which is why it was given that (typically Naval) nickname ‘Yogi Bear’. As we all stood admiring our plane – and tried to guess its (considerable) age – our Captain suddenly came into view wobbling and tripping his way across the tarmac as though he’d had one too many. No, I’m sure he hadn’t…he just looked like he had…didn’t he?


(1977 Fez from the air)

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I can’t admit to Morocco being my favourite destination because as mentioned earlier (in these memoirs) I’ve had far too many negative experiences on the African continent; but Carol didn’t have my history, she loved the place, needed a real pick me up and so a trip to Fez was exactly ‘what the doctor ordered’. Even though I wasn’t especially looking forward to the trip I was very relieved when (after rattling its way down the runway) our eccentric looking Captain managed to lift the plane off the ground into the air. 


(1977 Snake charmers in Fez)

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Landing in Fez was one of those memories that has seared itself into my psyche and not something I’ll ever forget in a long time. The runway resembled nothing short of a ploughed field which is exactly what it felt like landing in; as we hit the ground and then continued on for a further couple of hundred yards it was though we were all being given a smacked backside before being allowed off. When we finally did get off we had to walk through a couple of hundred yards of donkey muck to get to the entrance of what later transpired to be the Medina (walled city). I wouldn’t have minded the donkey muck so much if I had been wearing wellington boots but I was wearing my ‘million-milers’ (moccasins) which sadly had to hit the dustbin at the end of the day.


(1977 Tanned leather drying in the sun. Fez tannery)

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Spending the day in the Medina was a magical experience in many ways, the snake charmers, the tiny passages and ancient buildings coupled with the smells, sounds, and market trading of exotic spices and goods transported me back centuries into the past; it was almost as though time had stood still.


(1977 Transported centuries back into the past as though time had stood still)

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Fez is famous for its leather tanneries and so naturally we visited those to see the processes; Fez is also known for its hand woven rugs and carpets although what I found quite disturbing was that very small children were employed in making them. We were shown the children’s sleeping quarters and told they were well looked after and given several hours of education a day too but as a parent that didn’t ease my concerns. I’ve never felt it was my place to judge the culture or traditions of others and I’ve come across very young child workers before in the Far East but having said that I am absolutely against it and don’t buy any goods made by them. Although my own childhood was far from rosy seeing children in situations like that actually made me reassess my lot. 


(1977 Me outside the Royal Palace, Fez, Morocco)


(1977 Carol in the Medina, Fez, Morocco)

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On a high note one of the high lights of my day was having my photo taken outside the Royal Palace; to me that was really cool. But the best thing was really that Carol had once again had a fabulous experience in Morocco that she still cherishes to this day and it came at a time she really needed that lift.

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2:36 (1976) The Military Wife Abroad

22 Friday Jul 2016

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When I think back (though I didn’t realise it at the time) Carol’s experience of Gibraltar was a totally different one to mine (as naturally it would be); my days were all about serving in the armed forces (and whatever came with that) while hers was all about being a mum, a wife, a housekeeper, a cook and a million other things. To use her words ‘We were sometimes on the same bus journey but looking out of different windows’ and that probably explains why when we had family time we made the absolute most of it.
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The role of the military wife abroad isn’t really something I’d ever thought too deeply about until recently when I was writing about childminders and pre-school playgroups (which ironically feature quite highly for me now in my present day profession); to a large extent (due partly to the sexist culture in the armed forces at the time) there was certain expectancy on wives be seen in a certain way, to do homely/wifely/motherly things and conduct themselves in a manner the service approved of. Just writing that looks so offensive to me now and reading it back speaks volumes on how dreadful the pressure must have been on Carol and other military wives – particularly since they hadn’t ‘signed on’ or ‘taken the oath’. I suppose if I was to comment now I would say that whatever freedoms and equalities women have achieved since those days they fully deserve.

(1976 Carol and the child’s enjoying a break in the shade)


(2016 The same spot 40 years later?)

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One of the things I found most attractive about Carol when I first met her was her strength; life hadn’t been easy for her and she had long since stopped suffering fools gladly. Although mindful of being a military wife she was also very much her own independent person expecting (rightly so) to be treated respectfully. Life for her was very much about the children and me, and to that end much of her time was spent (one way or the other) on us all. 


(2016 Princess Silks. Carols favourite shop)

I think I’d mentioned previously Carol made all of the children’s clothes in really nice fabrics that she would take a lot of care in choosing, usually from her favourite shop #PrincessSilks on Main Street. That shop is still there today and even bigger than it was then as it now has a cellar (full of rolls of fabric and other haberdashery). But as well as the children’s clothes she also made her own clothes including evening dresses for the formal social functions at the Fleet Pavillion. Whenever we went out to those social functions I was immensely proud of how fabulous she looked and likewise whenever we were out with the children I totally loved the way they looked so gorgeous and were made such a big fuss of by everyone we met; #veryproudhubbyanddaddydotcom 🙂


(2016 Mothercare, previously the Emporium)

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To some degree sewing was very much a passion for Carol (since she trained as a tailoress) but having the children to manage meant she had to plan her sewing time and literally timetable it in. Much of her day was spent walking from Edinburgh House to Bakers Passage (dropping Tracey off at Mrs Dumoulin’s nursery), doing the shopping at Liptons, walking home, feeding and caring for the baby, making my lunch, eating lunch with me, doing housework and preparing an evening meal, walking back up to collect Tracey and perhaps finally calling in at the Emporium (now Mothercare) to buy little bits and let the children choose sweets. Some days for Carol squeezing in a pot of tea with cake in the English Tea Rooms was a serious treat and so I guess compared to her life mine was pretty cushy, I was just a sailor and thankfully not a military wife.

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2:35 (1976) What a wonderful legacy Mrs Dumoulin

21 Thursday Jul 2016

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In my last post I talked about our first trip over to Morocco during which Carol warmed very much to the culture of that nation and just thinking about that (in the present day) I wanted to flag up a really nice restaurant I discovered in May. The place is called Marrakech serving genuine Moroccan cuisine and the owners are really welcoming; it’s up behind the Gibraltar Art Gallery so if you love traditional Moroccan food I very much recommend it.
(2016 Marrakech Restaurant, Gibraltar)

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Increasingly it’s really nice that readers are interacting more with me, sharing their memories or commenting on (or clarifying) something I’ve written; it’s great for me to make new friends – (some of whom I’ve booked to have a pot of tea with when I return to the Rock) – and I really do appreciate every comment. Many thanks to Rob who reminded me that the boat to Morocco was called Mons Calpe and kindly sent me a photo which I have now added to that particular post. 



(2016 Bakers Passage and the brass plate to the Dumoulin residence with thanks to William Serfaty for the photos)

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Sometimes there are comments made which I feel I want to share with everyone and one such comment was made yesterday by Maruchi Golt who (in talking about our childminder) said:
“Mrs Dumoulin lived in Bakers Passage where she kept a nursery (my children attended). Sadly Mrs Dumoulin passed away a couple of months ago. A lovely woman. A beautiful family”.
When I read that comment I was really saddened because if I had remembered where the lady lived I would certainly have called in to see her when I was in Gibraltar in May and unbeknown to me that was the last opportunity I would ever have. Perhaps I may find a way in due course to respectfully offer my condolences to Mrs Dumoulin’s family; as Maruchi said she truly was a lovely woman.


(1976/77 Gibraltar Pre-School Playgroup. Tracey is second row down, third from the left) 

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On a happier note (as a result of her input from Mrs Dumoulin) Tracey was well prepared to join her pre-school playgroup and adapted very quickly; she was also able to cope with all of her transitions in later years. I often wonder how many children passed through Mrs Dumoulin’s care over the years; what a wonderful legacy.

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2:34 (1976) A boat to Morocco 

21 Thursday Jul 2016

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In an earlier post (2:31) I talked about how more and more we had begun making relationships with local people and one of those people was a lady called Mrs Doomaleen (the spelling of her name may not be right) who became a trusted and regular childminder for us. Initially Mrs Doomaleen would look after the children for short spells (a morning or an afternoon) if we needed her to but then later (on three or four occasions) she cared for them for whole days to give us both a really good break. A couple of those breaks were outings with the Naval Wives Club and a couple were with friends but certainly at least three of them were trips over to Morocco.
(1976 Bland Line Ferry, a boat to Morocco)

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(Mons Calpe, the boat to Morocco)


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The first time we visited Morocco was with friends and (if my memory serves me right) we took a boat to Tangier with Sandy and Penny. I’d visited Africa in the past on several occasions and sadly they were all negative experiences; in Sierra Leone I was beaten up and robbed, in South Africa during apartheid I was seriously at risk needing a police escort to safety and in Mombasa I was very much hassled so Africa wasn’t a place I had a desperate need to revisit. However, Carol hadn’t travelled very much and had a deep desire to go; in fairness to her the culture of Morocco (dress, food, smells, traditions) has remained a great love to her (although on every trip my antenna were up for danger and I never fully relaxed). 


(1976 Carol in red and Penny on camels)

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If I have one anecdote that still makes me smile it must be the one when we were all sitting in a cafe and I asked the waiter for a packet of cigarettes. ‘One moment Sir’ he said and then shot out of the cafe ran into the desert and over the horizon. As we all looked at each other agog – before laughing out loud – I eventually managed to mumble ‘Something I said?’. 

Eventually about half an hour later we saw an image reappear on the horizon getting bigger as it came running toward us; it was our waiter and in his hand was a packet of cigarettes. Heaven only knows where he’d been to get them (Rabat?) but clearly they were not easy to buy, in fact it appears it would have been easier for me to buy any drug you could mention than a packet of cigarettes – and a sight cheaper. The cigarettes were so expensive in Morocco that on future visits I took loads to barter with tradesmen and sellers.


(1976 Me and Sandy on camels)

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(1976 A lifetime animal lover. It costs nothing to be kind. Penny and Sandy in the background)

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For Carol, though, this first visit was very magical and I loved that and was thrilled that she could take away great memories. The day had all the ingredients of a fantastic tourist trip including camel rides, the King’s Palace, the Kasbah (with thankfully no negative experiences) but it also had an amazingly special memory (for Carol) which even I struggled to believe. 

Right in the middle of the Kasbah, in a very thin back alley we were all trying to push our way through the crowds when someone shouted to Carol ‘I know you’. Astonished we all looked to see who had said it and saw a local man in traditional dress sitting in his tiny shop; elaborating he said he recognised Carol from a visit he had made to Wales selling rugs once at a Trade Fair. Immediately Carol confirmed that as a teenager she worked in the Bay Hotel in Goodwick which hosted the event; the man said he recognised Carol by her very unique steel blue eyes. I think that sealed Carols love of Morocco and (in some ways) gave me faith back in people of the African continent.

2:32 (1976) In Alameda Gardens my children’s faces said it all

19 Tuesday Jul 2016

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If I lived in Gibraltar today I would probably want to adopt a couple of kids just so that I could take them to play in the Children’s Playground in Alameda Botanical Gardens. Yes, okay, I know, I’m being silly writing that (and there’s more chance of seeing pigs fly) but I guess the point I’m trying to make is that when I look back at photos of my children playing there I don’t really need to write anything because their faces say it all.  

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Of course I’m totally biased (because readers will already be aware of my love for Alameda) but it doesn’t take a professor to know that kids would rather have 5 minutes than £5 and I can’t think of anywhere better to spend time with them.


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The play park itself was very basic back in 1976 but in those days that’s exactly what children wanted, uncomplicated play. Alameda children’s park has changed quite a lot since then, if I remember rightly it looks much more like an adventure playground with nets to climb and obstacles up a height. I guess play parks have had to up their game to compete with technology these days but there’ll always be something lovely about simplicity for the little people.


On my recent visits in and out of Alameda (May 2016) I noticed loads of new ideas taking shape and loved them all particularly the children’s garden that was planted with all sorts of vegetables and which even has a bee hotel; also the new and wonderful indoor botanical garden that was inaugurated this year by the Chief Minister Fabian Picardo. Sadly it was locked on the day I went to see it but I did get a grasp of things looking through the windows. A personal favourite new arrival that was certainly not there in 1976 is the Monkey Totem Pole (check him out).


(2016 Children’s Garden, Alameda with Bee Hotel)



(2016 Monkey Totem Pole, Alameda)


(2016 Indoor Botanical garden, Alameda)


(2016 Selfie in Alameda)

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For me I think much of the charm of Alameda is that even when I’m on my own I find it almost like a retreat; I can be lost in there all day (as though in David Bowie’s Labyrinth) either walking the walks and enjoying the flora, or sitting in the midst of a rockery smelling the herbs and reflecting on life. I can be in a place where the only thing I can hear is silence and then a few minutes later the sounds of children playing. And that really brings me nicely back to my theme of today, the children growing up. The photos on this page are among my favourite of all time because looking at them I see my children as they began that process of growing up (in the beautiful Alameda).

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2:28 (1976) 21 Edinburgh House, Queensway

14 Thursday Jul 2016

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Living in our caravan was always really cosy and the views of the Rock from our lounge window were fabulous but space was very limited and so when we finally got the news we had a married quarter we were dancing. (Although my dancing is a bit like Mr Beans). Our new and final abode in Gibraltar would be 21 Edinburgh House, a three bed flat on the first floor, opposite Rooke barracks on Queensway. 

(1976 Tracey at our new flat)


(2016 Our same flat 40 years later)

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Edinburgh House was (and still is) a collection of several hundred flats (in two storey buildings) occupied (then) by both Royal Navy and RAF personnel; they were designed in quadrangles with communal space in the middle. In the seventies our communal space was a play park for the children; today it is car parking spaces and the flats are no longer for military personnel. On my recent trip (2016) I spent almost an hour having a fascinating chat to the present tenant and I’ll write about that in Chapter 3. Back then the NAAFI was where most service families shopped and conveniently it was just over the road. Another attraction of the NAAFI was that service families could have credit for things like electrical items and there was also a Christmas Club which allowed us to buy stamps and save up for presents and the festive season. For our family things like that were really helpful.


(Carol with (the wonderfully funny) Funky (with pegs on his ears) and Claudia on our balcony

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Our flat was in the quadrangle nearest to Rooke barracks and so nipping home for lunch was quick and easy; another great thing about it was that most of our new friends were also in our rectangle. Virtually opposite was Steve (Funky) Gibbons (an electrician) and his wife Claudia; looking left from our balcony was Penny and her hubby Sandy Saunders (a leading rate in my own department). Both Funky and Steve appealed to me the minute I met them because of their dry senses of humour. Although those two couples didn’t have children they were still very close to us in our social circle; all of us would often hoof over to the Fleet Pavillion (Fleet Pav) across the road for bingo nights, socials and those more informal evenings that insipired the women to make new evening gowns for the occasion. On several occasions Sandy and Penny came with us on trips to Morocco which I’ll write about later.


(Tracey in pink and white frock hosting one of her parties with friends)


(Tracey and Sam in pink bonnets playing with Jim and Betty’s daughters in Alameda Play Park)


One couple who did have children and were very good friends were Jim and Betty Simm; their two daughters often played with ours and we all had many a birthday party in each other’s flats or a trip to Alameda Play Park. 

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Life in Gibraltar had just got even better.

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2:27 (1976) At the top of Gibraltar I’m on top of the world.

13 Wednesday Jul 2016

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It isn’t often I’ve stood on top of a mountain but on the rare occasions I have there’s something very liberating about it. It reminds me how small and insignificant I am in the scale of things which I think is really healthy; sometimes life can be so busy that (by default) I start feeling ultra important (which I’m totally not), become very self focused and end up becoming quite inconsiderate and intolerant of others. To look out at the land, sea and air from up on high puts me in touch with my own mortality; what I’m looking out at has been there for millennia and has probably been seen by millions of people – if it ever looked back at me all it would see would be just one ordinary 61 year old man. 

(1976 Trafalgar House)


(2016 Trafalgar House)

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Standing atop the Rock of Gibraltar (to me) is awesome for all of the reasons mentioned but also for something else; a massive sense of belonging. I felt a connection with the Rock from the very first time I went to the top and still feel it now even after a forty years absence. When I look at photos from the seventies and compare them to more recent ones I love seeing the familiar things blending with newer developments; it’s almost like seeing an ongoing maintenance not dissimilar to looking after a vintage classic car. There’s something very reassuring about seeing the Trafalgar House building in a seventies photo and then still seeing it there in a 2016 photo alongside contemporary high rise apartment buildings.


(1976 At the Top of the Rock Cafe)

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There’s several ways to get to the top of the Rock including taxis, Rock Tours operators, the cable car or even (for the fit folks) walking up. When you arrive at the top there are fabulous views and photo opportunities from all sides and a cafe to chill with refreshments and pick up a few souvenirs. The photos above are of Carol and me on our first trip together to the Top of the Rock Cafe (we took the cable car); it’s really weird to say that I not only remember the shirt I’m wearing – I still have it! Couldn’t make that up! All around the cafe a troop of Rock apes welcome the visitors, play, feed and pinch whatever isn’t held tightly.

(2016 RockHeart. Title photo. Taken on MedStepsChhallenge2016)

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As well as the Cafe summit there are other peaks on Gibraltar. One is towards Europa Point which you can ascend via the Mediterranean Steps from Jews Gate (very recommendable) and another is quite a steep walk up the North Face passing Moorish Castle, the World War 2 Tunnel and the City Under Siege along the way. I’ve been up all three of the ones I’ve described and love all of them for their totally different experiences and their beautiful differing views. When I’m at the top of Gibraltar I’m on top of the world.

2:26 (1976) Camp Bay, Rosia, Gibraltar

12 Tuesday Jul 2016

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One of the great things about writing these memoirs is I’m in touch with many Gibraltarians (and others with a passion for the Rock) on Twitter; quite often I’m able to ask them if my writings are correct (authentic) which allows me to make any changes. More and more we are often having conversations on Gibraltar themes which are quite fascinating for both me and them. (Readers are welcome at my Twitter @spailpinfanac).
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Today I posted a photo on Twitter and asked for help in identifying the location because I couldn’t remember where it was and it didn’t look familiar to me; it wasn’t long before several people joined in the thread and helped me out with the conversation continuing (on-and-off) for most of the day.


(Tracey at Camp Bay).

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The photo I posted on Twitter is the one above and (thanks to Twitter friends) turns out to be Camp Bay; the child in the photo (in red) is my daughter Tracey. The photo below was one that I found with the other and is of Carol which I now think was also taken at Camp Bay on the same day.


(Camp Bay. Carol and Tracey)

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Now that I know the photos are of Camp Bay I do remember that lovely outdoor lido atmosphere about the place and the gorgeously warm days; I’m not sure but I think that side of the Rock had the sun longer than the other which made for lovely long days. 


(Camp Bay 2016)

During the conversations I had on Twitter a really interesting discussion ensued about the ornamental ‘Dolphins’ in the Camp Bay pool. I think people said there were three of them and that they used to spout water like fountains but were no longer there today. I couldn’t remember them at all and wondered if they were even there in the 70s at the same time as me – until someone actually pointed one of them out in my own photo (at top); ha ha couldn’t have made that up. If you look very closely at that photo you may be able to make out the black back of one of the dolphins just to the right of the lamp post. It’s funny because since it was pointed out to me I do now recollect the Dolphins and think it’s really sad that they are not there anymore. It would be lovely if they included them somewhere within the Camp Bay complex.
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Throughout our time in Gibraltar we were always spoiled for choice in the evenings and at the weekends because there were so many places to take the children and spend quality family time. On my recent visit (May 2016) my most enduring thought on leaving was that had changed – there were even more lovely things to do and places to go in Gibraltar than ever which I will write about in Chapter 3 of these memoirs.

*UPDATE FROM NICKY DANINO: hi Alan the dolphins are still there, just not in the actual pool. when they refurbished the pool they took them out and they are now lined up to one side!

2:25 (1976) “Daddy can we go to see the monkeys now please?”

11 Monday Jul 2016

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(1976 with Tracey and monkeys)

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Carol and the children had been in Gibraltar for I guess about six weeks when one Saturday morning Tracey asked “Daddy can we go to see the monkeys now please?” 


(My photo May 2016)

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I was shocked, outraged and speechless but not at Tracey. At myself. After all the things she had coped with over the past months the only thing she had wanted was for me to take her to see the monkeys – and I’d forgotten! Without saying a word my little three year old had sensed I had been busy with other things so had waited and trusted that I would eventually plan it and that one day I would say to her that today was the day. But I hadn’t (because I had forgotten) and so she had had to come to me and ask. I felt totally dreadful. 


(My photo May 2016)

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Lifting her onto my knee and giving her a massive hug I said to her “Yes sweetheart, today is the day we can go to see the monkeys”. After watching our conversation Carol (thinking quickly on her feet) said “Come on then. Let’s choose our frocks and get ready for our day out then you can help Mummy to get Sammie and the bags ready” to which Tracey bounced off my knee with an excited smile on her face. That one short conversation I had with my child taught me more about parenting than anything else since, even though (ironically) I deliver parenting courses as part of my work role today. The idea I wasn’t in tune with my child really hurt me inside and I vowed not to let that happen again.


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The wild Barbary macaques of Gibraltar are the monkeys Tracey was talking about; they are world famous and thought to be the biggest tourist attraction of the Rock. Wikipedia will tell readers that there are 5 separate troops of apes on the Rock numbering 300 individuals although on my recent visit (May 2016) the Ranger said there were 6 troops numbering an estimated 250. Whatever the correct figure is isn’t really relevant within this memoir so much as the fact that if you don’t visit the apes on a trip to Gibraltar – you have ‘not’ been to Gibraltar, such is their relevance. Legend has it that if the apes ever leave the Rock it will cease to be British.

(Love the way Sammies foot sticks out from the papoose on my shoulder X )


(My lovely little daughter with ‘her’ monkey)

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In the cable car on the way up to the apes den Tracey was so excited – and we were even more excited for her. The minute we stepped off the cable car her eyes were all over the place like lighthouse beacons as they searched for the monkeys and it wasn’t long before she found them. Bless her. To see the wonder in her eyes on that day remains one of my favourite memories – and also one of hers 🙂 

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I loved how she literally kneeled down to get a closer look at the monkeys, she’d heard so much about them there was almost this need in her to get as close as possible to check out the information she had in her head. What was even more amazing was how the monkeys related back to her; most of them were bigger than her and (since they are wild animals) could easily have hurt her but the opposite happened. The monkeys seemed to warm to her and be aware of her vulnerability. I swear if I had left her there they would have looked after her and raised her. She totally loved her day and I totally loved that she loved her day