2:41 (1976) Hope it’s not too cold outside

29 Friday Jul 2016

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It’s never easy to discuss very emotive subjects but these days (as a 61 year old man) I’ve found through experience (unpleasant as it may be) doing so can be quite cathartic and healing; readers may already have picked that up about me if they have read any of my other memoirs. 
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I suppose to put that in a simple way I’ve evolved into being very much more direct than I was as a younger man and tend to be more able to deal with difficult or challenging issues head on and more maturely now; at my age I’d far rather hear things as they are than be faffing about trying to decipher something.

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However that wasn’t the case in 1976 when I decided to put in my 18 months notice to leave the Royal Navy without first consulting Carol; although I had done it for what I considered to be all the right reasons I was terrified of telling her and for good reason too. When I finally did pluck up the courage she was very less than happy (she went beserk) and felt (not only that we should have discussed it together) that I had acted on impulse without considering the whole family. 

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Looking back she was right I did act on impulse, my decision ‘would’ affect the whole family and do feel now that it was a decision we should have taken together; the whole business was very much a learning curve for me in terms of relationship equality because (without making excuses that I was raised in the very sexist environment of Geordieland in the 60s) in reality I absolutely didn’t want to be dominant within my marriage. I can’t even tolerate dominance in the animal world let alone the human one and very much wanted Carol to be her own person – clearly I still had things to learn even though I still feel the decision to leave was the right one albeit having an element of sadness about it in terms of loss for me personally.

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The thing about the 18 month notice was that it was something I could take back almost right up to the date of being released and so for me there was always the opportunity open for me to change my mind and I think both Carol and me sort of thought that might still happen – even though if it did I was guaranteed to be sent to sea after our Gibraltar stint. 


(1976 Christmas at Edinburgh House, Gibraltar)

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Watching my children playing (usually in my favourite Alameda Garden) I would ask myself often if I’d made the right decision. There’s an old saying in the Navy which refers to men leaving the service that goes “It’s cold outside” and that was something that began filtering into my psyche quite often. Although I didn’t know whether (in my case it would be cold outside – in other words tough to get a job with the same salary and esteem) what I did know was that if I did decide to leave regular service it would happen sometime in April 1978 after which I would be obliged to serve Royal Naval Reserve time whilst in civvy street? 


(1976 Tracey’s 4th birthday party at Edinburgh House, Gibraltar)

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Christmas 1976 brought a nice light relief especially since it was Sam ‘s first. We all had a lovely time, particularly the children; the celebrations were always quite extended in our house on account of Tracey’s birthday being on the 27th December. This year was her 4th birthday and it was lovely to see her at the top of the table in her pink/purple and white frock with all of her friends around her. Watching her so happy I really hoped if I did leave the RN that it wasn’t too cold outside.
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2:40 (1976) The winds of change are blowing…

28 Thursday Jul 2016

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(1976 Alameda Gardens Gibraltar. Carol, Tracey and Sam. An absolute favourite photo xxx)

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As 1976 rolled on it was lovely to see the children increasingly bond as Sam became more aware of her surroundings (and the people in her life) and Tracey began enjoying having a sister; Carol too was very much more settled now that we were finally ensconced in our married quarter at Edinburgh House.



(1976 Fleet Pav Gibraltar. Carol, Me, Babs, Betty and Jim Simm)

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For a short time Carol’s Mum Babs came to stay with us when life was very difficult for her; she had separated from Carol’s dad Viv and I guess she just needed to get herself together. For Carol to allow her to come was quite an act of kindness because they’d never had the strongest of relationships, Carol was far closer to her Dad and (in truth) was more concerned about him but it was Babs who asked to come and stay. If I remember rightly Carol put a caveat on the arrangement that Babs needed to get a job and fund her own needs and so for a time she worked in the English Tea Rooms; I think she also played the piano a couple of times at the play school for a backhander. During her stay we naturally brought her into our social circle and had many an outing with her around our haunts but eventually (after a few months I think) she decided to return to UK. It’s never easy having a house guest for an extended period of time and so I guess (without being unkind) we were glad to have our lives back; I think due to her being older she was quite intolerant of little children and so the arrangement could never have been long term.


(1976 At home in Edinburgh House)

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Sometime during September 1976 Carol found out that she was once again pregnant and though we were shocked we were also thrilled; as we pondered some of the challenges of having three children at the age of 22 we also thought about the advantages (one being we would still be relatively young when they were adults and our grandchildren arrived). 
But without racing ahead with excitement (which I did anyway because I was a bloke and nothing was going to get in the way of my joy) we had to start thinking about practicalities; the baby would be due in July 1977 which in Gibraltar was a hot month and probably not the most pleasant for a heavily pregnant woman – and if Carol had pregnancy complications requiring her to stay in hospital for periods of time I was going to need support with the girls. Always lurking at the back of my mind was how I felt shocked and let down by the RN when they refused me leave after Sam was born and nearly died; as that thought pervaded all my senses I suddenly became terrified of something horrible happening and me not being there for my family.

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As if by fate I think it was about mid-October 1976 when the RN introduced a brand new exit strategy for servicemen wanting to leave the Navy; if a man gave 18 months notice he could leave freely, without penalty and with an exemplary discharge. The winds of change were blowing….

2:39 (1976) HMS ROOKE – A short history (with a little help from a friend)

26 Tuesday Jul 2016

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(HMS ROOKE Crest)

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When I think of the very close emotional connection I have to Gibraltar it would be natural to think that (since I was based at HMS Rooke) I had a keen interest in the history of the establishment. To be really honest I didn’t back then but I do now (since writing these memoirs) and that’s largely due to a reader (William Serfaty) sharing his amazing historical knowledge with me. 


(Gibraltar Naval Dockyard)

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Even up until quite recently I had forgotten how extensive HMS Rooke and the Naval dockyard was in 1976 and it wasn’t until I googled a few photos (below) that I remembered about the size of the warehouse complex within the Base. Having said that since it was our responsibility at HMS Rooke to ensure warships passing through had everything they needed it’s not surprising the storage facilities were massive particularly when a ship like HMS Hermes docked as she did in 1976.


(1976 HMS Hermes docked at Gibraltar)

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One thing I love – and that is really cool for me – (in writing these memoirs) is having readers message me with ‘their’ Gibraltar stories especially when they are from the same time I was there (1976/77). As mentioned William (Serfaty) did that and his recollections were so historically interesting and relevant to my ramblings I wanted to share them here:

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“I was also busy bringing up a family in Gib in 1976. I had a building company which was in joint venture with a Glasgow builder. Our main cooperation was on building HMS Rooke which we were completing around then.
Rooke was started early in 1969 at the junior ratings end (NORTH). On Saturday June the 9th the labour force was withdrawn. The frontier closed. It took more than a year to prepare accommodation to find a new labour force and another to bring in the necessary 5,000 people to Gib to get working again. 

Consequently Rooke was quite recently completed when you arrived in the mid -70’s.
The demolition of the Old HMS Rooke was still in progress at June 69.

Built by Whatlings (Overseas) Ltd. in Joint venture with Constructors Ltd.

Whatlings was a Glasgow civil engineering firm later taken over by MacAlpine’s. It has been taken over by the Government. The plan was to move the Essential Services and Police and Fire Station there”.

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I’d like to extend my sincere thanks to William for sharing his story which (for me) really compliments these memoirs and which I hope readers also enjoyed reading. Perhaps to finish this (more historical) post I thought I’d include some data from Wikipedia:
“HMS Rooke was the naval base at Gibraltar. It was commissioned in 1946, succeeding HMS Cormorant, and operating until becoming a Joint Service Base in 1990. The Royal Navy closed the base and paid it off in 1996 and it is now headquarters for the Gibraltar Defence Police. The base is named after Admiral George Rooke who led the Anglo-Dutch Capture of Gibraltar in 1704.


(2016 Revisiting Rooke in May 2016)

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POST UPDATE:

Since publishing this post reader Sandra Capano updated me (see comments on this post) to say Rooke was currently closed? When I asked my Twitter friends if anyone knew what was going on I had an update from a follower/friend Jess on Twitter who updated me that Rooke is being handed over to @GibraltarGov to be used for Essential Services.

2:38 (1976) Between being a husband, a father and a sailor there was also some Alan somewhere

25 Monday Jul 2016

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As a child one of the things I found great comfort in was drawing; over the years I had developed considerably good artistic skills and had a very sharp eye for perspective. At sea on warships I would often illustrate letters home for shipmates or even design tattoos for them that they would then have done in the Far East. Later in life (after release from the Royal Navy) I would win a National Art Competition in the UK and work as a freelance illustrator for local, regional and national press (for about 15years alongside holding down a full time job) but to put that in context it was in Gibraltar that I honed my skills. Skills which were far easier to hone than those needed to play the guitar.


(Ms.Grace. Watercolour)

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I mentioned earlier that Carols passion was dress-making and (after the children were in bed) she would often sit at her sewing machine making frocks for the children or dresses for herself; it was then that I would sit down at the table and draw. During our time in Gibraltar I took part in a few local art exhibitions including one in 1977 celebrating HM Queen Elizabeth 2 Jubilee Year although I don’t think my abstract style was quite what the judges were looking for. On the bright side though taking part in those exhibitions brought me to the attention of people who liked my style and so (amazingly) I did get a couple of commissions including one from the Gibraltar Scouts for a First Day Cover. Although fine pen work wasn’t quite my skill (I did try to get out of it) I somehow managed to produce it and (all these years later) I’m glad I did. It will never go down in history as a masterpiece but (having a love of Gibraltar, art and philately) my copy is very much a treasured possession. 

(First Day Cover Gibraltar Scouts)

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Readers will know by now that (although I write this blog nearly every day) I never plan in advance and have no idea what today’s theme will be until I start writing. I suppose the reason I wanted to include a note about my art was that (looking back at the last couple of posts) I seem to have concentrated only on my career and my home life and I didn’t want readers thinking I was totally obsessed with them alone, there was also a bit of Alan in the equation somewhere. In fact art became such an obsession that as I grew older I studied several painters in depth (Van Gogh and Richard Dadd to mention a couple), produced umpteen books and staged three biographical exhibitions until finally in 1995 I was ‘arted-out’ and just stopped. Some of the last paintings I did were of Carol called Ms.Grace (above and below).

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(Ms.Grace. Ink and acrylic)

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(1995. My daughters at my final Art exhibition ‘Joirneys End’ next to my painting of the month).

It’s an odd thing to say (having already said that I honed my skills in Gibraltar) but since my recent visit to the Rock (2016) I have started sketching again…images of Gibraltar 🙂

2:37 (1976) Promotion, pride and pain

24 Sunday Jul 2016

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Running in parallel with the life of a military wife runs the life of the serviceman and whilst I had little conception of Carols trials I don’t imagine she had much conception of mine either unless (of course) real issues arose on either side and then we would discuss them. As far as we were concerned family time was sacrosanct and not reserved for the moans and groans of daily life but one thing (about my working life) that was on our joint agenda was my promotion.

(1975 HMS Pembroke, Chatham, Kent. Leading Rate Professional course. Me, far right)

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When I first joined the Royal Navy I had no real interest in promotion, my goals were more about seeing the world and then later getting drunk at every opportunity. After meeting Carol, however, things changed and she would be quite direct in asking me what I was going to do about my advancement; I also felt that now I had a family I should do whatever I could to better us all and so between her encouragement and my need to improve our lot I took my Leading Rate course and passed. The process after passing the course for Leading Rate was that individuals then went onto a sort of waiting list and accrued a certain amount of points each month; the points list was published in Navy News every month and when an individual finally got all his points he was promoted.


(Sometimes when I open the wardrobe it is as though time has stood still).

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In September 1976 I received my promotion and was immensely proud of the shiny gold anchor on my left arm sitting above my first long service stripe (badge); a Leading Rate with one stripe is known in the Navy as a ‘One Badge Killick’ and carries quite a lot of respect from both those above and those below. What comes along with that respect (naturally) is more responsibility and it wasn’t long before I found myself leading a small team of men and standing in for the Petty Officer when he was absent.

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Apart from the esteem I got from my promotion – and boy (from the point of view as a kid brought up in care) it certainly healed a few wounds – another benefit was the pay rise; there had never been a time as a family when we hadn’t struggled and so it was lovely to have some spare cash to treat ourselves occasionally rather than see all of our money going out on bills. Around about the same time as receiving my promotion I also received a really good tax rebate because my daughter Samantha had been born just before the end of the tax year on 31 March. In celebration of our new found fortune I bought Carol a truly beautiful eternity ring of three sapphires and four diamonds set in gold; I don’t remember which jeweller I got it from but suffice to know it was excellent quality and was bought in Gibraltar.

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In chinese culture they talk of yang and yang being sort of necessary opposites that don’t always compliment one another; in western culture we might think of ‘opposite sides of a coin?’. While there were the obvious benefits to my promotion there were also very new challenges – AND ongoing underlying, unresolved issues I still needed to address. 

One of the new challenges I had was disciplining people who were previously my peers, my friends and occasionally even my babysitters. Phil Bamford comes straight to mind; as a single guy he was often on the lash in the week and so often late to work in the mornings. After giving him several warnings I found myself in the unsavoury situation of having to take him in front of the skipper and him having to explain himself which naturally resulted in him being punished. I don’t remember if that had a long term effect on my relationship with Phil but I don’t imagine it did it any favours.

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Probably more concerning than the new challenges were the ongoing unresolved underlying issues which I detailed in my memoirs at (2:17) and (2:18). The pride I felt at my promotion to Leading Rate in the Royal Navy was immense; it was (for me) the biggest achievement of my life and held strong connections with my childhood days having time with my cousin Paul (See my Welcome page) who had also been a Leading Rate. But my pride and love of the Royal Navy was in constant permanent conflict with the pain I felt inside from when my daughter was seriously ill and the Navy decreed I would only have been allowed home if she died. Worse still, and very worrying, was thatthese two sets of feelings were on a collision course and very soon it would be decision time.

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I’ve been asked many times why it took me forty years to return to Gibraltar but I’ve never found that question very easy to answer; having said that just reading that last paragraph back seems to begin touching on it. I guess for many years it’s been on my mind but for all the reasons I found to go there was as many reasons not to. In writing these memoirs I do hope to answer the question. Meanwhile I’ll close my blog today with a poem I wrote in 1995 (which is included on my ‘Songwriter’ page on my primary website spailpinfanac.com).

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QUESTION

So do you reflect or do you pretend

To have sorted your life and can now comprehend

Mistakes you have made and are able to blend

The peace with the pain to survive to the end
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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.

2:33 (1976) Royal Naval Hospital Gibraltar (RNH)

20 Wednesday Jul 2016

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In one of my previous memoirs (2:22 (1976) Nuffield Pool and Europa Point) I wrote a little bit about the day I realised I had developed a stomach ulcer (during a Navy swimming gala). The ulcer was as a result of binge drinking in the Far East which had left me alcohol dependent although since having my own family it was an issue I’d managed to keep control of. What I had no control over, however, was the abdominal pains and in due course I ended up in RNH for some pretty invasive and unpleasant tests which I don’t really think readers want to know too much about.What was interesting though was my baby Samantha also ended up in RNH at exactly the same time although not for anything serious, just to have a small cyst that she had been born with removed from her nose.


(RNH Back in the day)

Naturally Sam was in the children’s ward and my ward was on the floor below but that didn’t stop me sneaking out of bed when I could and nipping up to see her; the only time I wasn’t able to do that was when I was ‘spaghetti man’ with tubes coming out of everywhere. Carol, bless her, had two of us to visit twice a day which was no easy task considering RNH was quite a distance from Edinburgh House and she also had Tracey to consider.

Not long before I went into hospital Carol and I had been to see an Irish trio (popular at the time) called the Bachelors perform at Inces Hall; as a child I learned most of their songs (Marta, I believe, My Diane) because my foster parents had lots of their records (that I eventually inherited) which they played religiously every Sunday. During their time in Gibraltar the Bachelors called in at RNH children’s ward and met my daughter Sam who they ‘kissed on the cheek’. When Sam was older and we told her about this ‘claim to fame’ – her unimpressed response was ‘Who are the Bachelors?’. 


(2016 RNH taken during my MedStepsChallenge)

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It wasn’t just the Bachelors that Sam rubbed shoulders with, celebrities seemed to often cross her path. One day while I was at work Carol had taken the children for a walk up Main Street and bought them an ice cream. Just as Sam was about to lick her ice cream a very tall man accidentally knocked it out of her hand onto the floor; the man turned out to be the magician Tommy Cooper. As Sam screamed Tommy tried to console her but was castigated by his wife who ushered him off before he had chance to make amends. It wasn’t something Carol ever forgot or forgave and when she told me about it I was horrified. Manners maketh the man.


(1976 Carol and the children on Main Street)

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After Sam had her cyst removed she made a full recovery and we were thrilled that the surgery left no scar whatsoever. As for me I ended up on medication to manage pain and acid production although twenty years later would need surgery for a perforated ulcer. All of my recollections of RNH are really positive; the staff were a fantastically dedicated team who (during 1977) would also care for Carol during a six weeks stay in the hospital which I will write about in due course. (Thank you RNH).

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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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