2:21 (1976) The mystique of Catalan Bay

07 Thursday Jul 2016

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As mentioned earlier Catalan Bay was (and still is) my favourite beach in Gibraltar and whenever I think about why that is I suppose it’s partly to do with the mystique of the place. The first time I ever went there I walked the beach and then wandered around the little village with its coloured houses and church but didn’t see a soul. Looking back there was probably a perfect explanation for that (for example it may have been ‘siesta’) – I don’t know – but the whole place was very enigmatic to me. If you ever walk around a place and don’t meet anyone it can be a very surreal experience; in the absence of people or knowledge your mind fill the gaps and make things up. 
(With my daughter Tracey. Catalan Bay 1976)

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Looking up at the water catchment on the Rock behind Catalan village my creative mind would go into overdrive. Had there been a landslide that had sent all the people into the sea but left the buildings empty but intact? Pompeii or what? No, of course not but I guess some places just capture your imagination and Catalan Bay did for me and still does. I don’t think I ever did meet a real live Gibraltarian ‘Catlander’ until 40 years later in 2016.


(A stock photo. Catalan Bay)

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Something that added to the mystique of Catalan Bay (particularly for Tracey) was when we would walk through the tunnel to get there. I don’t remember the name of the tunnel but it was quite a trek and literally went through the Rock from somewhere near Rosia (?) or the cable car to Sandy Bay. I must try to find it again when I return. For Tracey, as a little 3 year old, it was almost like something out of the ‘Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe’ walking through a very, very long tunnel to come out to a ‘Palace’ at the other end – Caleta Palace of course, now more mundanely named Caleta Hotel.


(My photo taken from the cafe at the top of the Rock. Catalan Bay. May 2016)

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Catalan Bay has naturally been developed since 1976 and today has several more eating places than in those early days – very good eating places I have to add. But regardless of progress there is still (very much) a captivating air about this little place that gets my whole hearted approval. For those brave enough (or daft enough like me) to take a dip – the water is a bit choppy to say the least. Once a year (I can’t remember if it’s Christmas Day or New Years Day) a load of locals charge into the water for a little self flagellation although I’m not sure why; but then why not? For those with good knees there’s a set of steps that go up from the beach between a few of the little houses to the top road where Caleta Hotel sits. I did go up the steps to check out the view but my endearing memories are of spending times there having picnics with my young family.

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READER UPDATE FROM NIKKY DANINO (Many thanks): Dudley Ward tunnel takes you from La Caleta to Europa Point. I don’t think they allow pedestrians nowadays.

(Photos I took at Catalan Bay May 2016)

2:20 (1976) Eastern Beach, Bambinos and the Hacienda

05 Tuesday Jul 2016

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On the weekends when I wasn’t on duty we would often walk around the North Face for a day out at either Eastern Beach or Catalan Bay. Although Catalan Bay was my favourite it was a far longer walk for Tracey (“I only have little legs Daddy”) and Carol; naturally then Eastern Beach was a more regular haunt. It also had (correct me if I’m wrong) a coffee take-away place called the Hacienda Bar (?) which is the building on stilts in the the photos. On my recent visit (May 2016) I didn’t have the time to explore Eastern Beach and so couldn’t verify the name of the beach bar or even if it is still there.
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Thinking back I suppose Eastern Beach is the Bondi Beach of Gibraltar because of its size; it’s by far the longest beach, stretching over the border to Spain, and although I’m not fond of big beaches it does have its saving graces. Because it’s so open (I seem to remember) it has a lovely breeze – and because the sea comes well in it wasn’t far to take the children for a paddle. 


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When I look at the photos on this page I’m literally back there as a young Daddy and (as I’ve grown older) I’ve had times when I’ve really grieved the loss of that role – it’s no exaggeration to say there have been times when I’ve bawled my eyes out. Indeed just recalling and writing that memory has glazed my eyes over but then I never expected that writing this memoir would be easy going all the way. 


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These were very special times which I very much doubt my writing skills will ever be able to convey properly. I absolutely loved to see my children in their matching frocks and hats, all of which Carol hand-made from materials she would buy at Princess Silks on Main Street. What I also loved was how local people loved the children too and would often ask to ‘look after bambinos’ while Carol and I had a break for a swim or a walk. 


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Of all of the personal photos readers will see in these memoirs the ones on this page are the most emotionally powerful for me; while (as said) I often grieve the passing of my ‘young Daddy’ days I also cherish these images and spend many hours just looking at them. I have copies on my phone so that I can see them anytime I want to. They were taken forty years ago, long before mobile digital camera phones and so I’m very, very grateful that somehow they’ve gone the distance and survived.

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I make absolutely no apologies for today’s blog being heavy on the photos; it was lovely to have my family with me and sometimes I do think a photo says more than a thousand words. When I look at these photos I see Carol happily writing letters home, I see my little girl Tracey with a beaming smile and I see my baby Sammie taking her first steps. Priceless! And I’m sure by now readers will recognise my watch 🙂

2:19 (1976) I love that my children had some of their Early Years in Gibraltar

04 Monday Jul 2016

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Gibraltar is a fabulous place for children, and for parents to bring up children – (it’s also fabulous for adults like me who never grew up); I say that last bit tongue in cheek (because in my profession we often say that ‘brilliant Childcare workers never grow up’). Now at the ripe old age of 61 I still work with children and young people and have absolutely no intention of growing up.
* (Carol holding Sam as Tracey looks on)

 
Readers will know from my earlier writings that my own childhood took place in the cold back streets of Newcastle during the 50s and 60s and so (with that in mind) I loved the idea of my children having the opposite – and you couldn’t get more opposite than Gibraltar; indeed many of my Gibraltarian readers tell me of halcyon days during their childhoods and you need only to do the minimum of research to discover that life for children and young people on the Rock is still full of sunshine and opportunities.


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In 1976 our children were very little (one age 3 the other just a few months) and one of their favourite things to do was to go to the beach or somewhere else they could paddle in the water and cool off from the Mediterranean sun. Gibraltar has six absolutely gorgeous beaches and naturally we spent a lot of time on all of them; my personal favourite beach was always (and still is) Catalan Bay but we did chop and change often to give the children variety. 
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But as well as beaches (and I do have some beach anecdotes planned for later in these memoirs) we also took the children to places where they could paddle to cool off; Nuffield Pool was very much a regular haunt and its brilliant to see how much it has been redeveloped today although I don’t think it’s called Nuffield Pool now.


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But one other place we often went to was (if I remember rightly) somewhere called (I think) Montague Bay (?) which was just a short walk down Queensway from HMS Rooke. It was a sort of enclosed concrete quayside with deck chairs on it and where you could climb down steel ladders for a dip in the sea water. The problem is though that when I’ve asked people in Gibraltar recently about it they don’t recognise the name and when I visited the Rock in May 2016 it was no longer there due to developments. My memory is fading but I think it may have been somewhere around where the Waterfront/Marina is now. 


* (Photo of Montague Bathing Pavillion signposted by Nicky Danino & her Mum via Twitter. Many thanks X Alan)

All of the photos on this page are all taken at ‘Montague’ and so if any readers recognise the place or can shed more light I’d be grateful. I think one of the main attractions of the place was that it was so near that we could pop down in the evenings after I finished work. Halcyon days 🙂
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One of the things I truly love about Gibraltar is that my children had some of their early years there.

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PLEASE SEE THE READERS MEMORIES PAGE FOR MORE PHOTOS AND READERS MEMORIES OF MONTAGUE BATHING PAVILLION

2:18 (1976) Hard Talk

02 Saturday Jul 2016

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I can’t deny being shocked and saddened when I realised how traumatic things had been for Carol during our separation; to think I hadn’t been in a position to help her was frightening and heartbreaking. And while I couldn’t forget how vulnerable our family was while ever we were dependent on the Navy I didn’t want to spoil what we had finally got. Here we were in beautiful Gibraltar with a two year posting to look forward to and although I did need to analyse carefully my ever changing circumstances (in terms of my ‘work-home life-balance’) I had to keep those good bits in mind to ensure our stay in Gibraltar was a positive one.
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As a serving member of the armed forces the Royal Navy’s interest in me would always be (first and foremost) military (since their primary role was the defence of the United Kingdom and I had a part to play). But that didn’t mean to say they weren’t interested in my well being or harmony within my family life. Just acknowledging that took the sting out of personalising the issue; after all I’d been in the Navy five years, loved my job and the culture and I understand how things worked. I was well liked, well respected and later in the year I was due for promotion so naturally the Royal Navy was a massive part of my identity.

What had changed, however, was that I was now a married man with children and therefore my priorities were changing and were now very different to when I first joined up. That wasn’t the Navy’s fault but what I needed to do was get a grip on it all.
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For me the whole thing was a massive learning curve; as a family man I now had to develop the skills of anticipation, to be able to look forward and spot obstacles or issues that might negatively impact on my family, and begin to think more about prevention than cure. From that moment on that is exactly what I did. After talking through things I think Carol recognised that she was actually a very strong young woman underneath which (despite the catalyst to finding that out being so dreadful) was something she was proud of and could (and would) now build on.
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Being able to talk things through together had been a real tonic. It had lifted a lot of anxiety and fears and bonded us even more closely together. Whatever was around the corner would never be as frightening as where we had come from because we would tackle it together and with that in mind we could now finally look forward to our two year posting in beautiful Gibraltar.
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2:17 (1976) My faith had been shaken to the core

01 Friday Jul 2016

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One evening when the children were in bed Carol and I began talking about how being separated had been for us both. Carol really complimented me for keeping my head and not hitting the booze when things got tough because I was still quite vulnerable in that direction; I praised her too for managing the children on her own through difficult times in the often unforgiving environment of Geordieland. With not having any extended family to speak of we only had each other to top up our ’emotional bank accounts’; praising each other was one way we were able to build up our self esteem and continue bonding.
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During our separation we had both had our 21st birthday without the other and both had tough challenges and decisions to make without having the other for support. It had been quite an isolating time for both of us but for Carol it turned out to be extremely worrying too.

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Not long after I had arrived in Gibraltar our baby Sam had begun having seizures and become extremely ill, so much so that it wasn’t known if she would survive. Tests were inconclusive and so a diagnosis or prognosis wasn’t possible. Things became so scary for Carol after being convinced by the medics that we may very well lose the baby she contacted SAAFA (Sailors, Army, Air Force Association) and asked them to request the Royal Navy to send me home on compassionate grounds.

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SAAFA contacted the Commanding Officer of HMS Rooke on Carols behalf, explaining the circumstances, and requested compassionate leave for me. It was refused. The reply from Rooke said that I would be given compassionate leave only ‘if the baby died’. The effect of this response on Carol can only be imagined; our child may die, she would have to face that dreadful prospect alone after which she would have to manage her grief until I got home after I had been told by a total stranger that my daughter was dead. What an awful thing to cope with.

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Of course I knew nothing of all this at the time, because the Navy didn’t inform me, but as Carol spoke that evening it all starting making sense; particularly when I thought back to my birthday and the Bootnecks wouldn’t leave until after I had opened my telegram. They must have thought Carol was updating me and were wary of my reaction. As it turned out Carol’s telegram was only a genuine birthday message and so they left me be.

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As I slowly took in the implications of what Carol was telling me I was outraged; so much so that later in the year the Royal Navy would learn just how sickened I was; how much my love and faith in them had been shaken to the core.

2:16 (1976) Treasured memories of Nirvana

30 Thursday Jun 2016

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By the time we got ‘home’ (what a great word for our new flat in Trafalgar House that we hadn’t even spent a night in yet) it was really dark. As we entered the lobby of the building there was a really weird rustling sound coming from the bins that were kept there. Immediately Carol got quite alarmed and whispered “What’s that?”, then froze hanging on to me for fear of death – (or even worse!). Not knowing what it was I moved closer to the bins to try to see but with every step I took Carol had to take a step too and with the rustling noise getting louder and louder she was starting to freak out.
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Just then I had a light bulb moment (for want of a better phrase) – I’d reach over and switch the lights on and then we’d both see what it was making the noise. Reaching over to the switch I became aware we were both staring, eyes wide open at the bins; the second I flicked it on Carol let out a blood curdling scream as hundreds of cockroaches ran all over the walls and floors for cover. We were not alone.


I can’t say it was one of my best moments and it certainly wasn’t how I had hoped the evening would end – not that I minded Carol jumping up into my arms I would just have preferred it to have been a little more romantic. Carol has something of an insect phobia (if there is such a thing) and so it took me some time to calm her down but eventually we made our way upstairs to find our baby sitters happily telling us Tracey and Sam had been lovely and both were flat out asleep.


Apart from cockroaches in the bins our time at Trafalgar House was lovely, Carol and the children settled well in the flat and we took advantage of me being on leave to get out and about a little so that everyone could become orientated. Naturally we had to think carefully before leaving the flat (because it was a long way back up if we forgot anything) but just being together again compensated for any inconveniences. In total (if I remember rightly) we were only at Trafalgar House for two or three weeks before a Naval Caravan became free but I have very treasured memories of those times. We even had a cat. Okay it was a Ferrell cat but it was a cat that kept the cockroaches out 🙂


For me the loveliest thing about it all was that we had finally come through a really emotionally difficult transition and now had a normal family life. Just watching Carol feed Sam on the couch or Tracey laughing out loud was nirvana; not even winning the lottery could have come close.

2:15 (1976) St.Michael’s Cabin

29 Wednesday Jun 2016

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I’m not sure how we all four of us got on the bed with three great big teddy bears but lying there with Carol and the children (and those bears) was a ‘I never want this to end’ moment. The smell of baby Sam’s coconut head was exactly how I remembered it as she lay on my chest; and having Tracey one side and Carol the other made me feel like the filling in a sandwich of love. 
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Eventually though we did all have to move because naturally Sam needed feeding and changing and it was lovely for me to be able to tend her needs again. In the short six weeks or so that we had all been apart Sam had changed so much I was really glad the separation wasn’t any longer. While I tended to the baby Carol and Tracey freshened up after which we all went down for a stroll around Alameda gardens. I had died and gone to Heaven!
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As we walked around the gardens we ‘bumped into’ (accidentally on purpose) a couple of mums from the Naval Wives Club who I had (deliberately arranged to bump into and) arranged to babysit while I took Carol out for a meal; point being I wanted Tracey to meet them beforehand. Fortunately Tracey was very relaxed with them and after an hour or so was delighted they were going to watch the television with her while Mummy and Daddy popped out for a little while.


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That evening, dressed up to the nines, we sat in the back of a taxi on a beautiful warm evening and cruised slowly (at my request) up the Rock to St.Michaels Cabin. When we arrived we got out of the car and looked out at the view below – speechless. Carol was in awe of the Rock and the view and I was in awe of her; she looked beautiful. It was forty years ago but in my mind it may as well have been forty minutes ago the memory is so crystal clear.
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As we went into the cabin we were greeted by a waiter who showed us to our reserved table by the window overlooking La Linea; in the background a live folk band played beautiful gentle instrumentals. Back then whenever we went out for a meal (which was extremely rare because we never had spare money) we always had a steak and although that may sound naff now it was an amazing treat for us then. Oddly enough I don’t particularly remember the steak that night so much as the most amazing French Onion Soup with Cheese Croutons we had for starters. 
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As the sun went down we alternated between looking out of the window at the lights flicking on in the town and staring each other straight in the eyes. We were two ordinary people who had somehow survived difficult, abusive, lonely childhoods to find each other, connect and land in paradise. 

2:14 (1976) Everyone was shattered but no-one wanted to sleep.

28 Tuesday Jun 2016

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In the taxi from the airport I just could not get enough of the physical contact and went into octopus mode with one arm around Tracey as she sat on my knee and the other arm around Carol as I kissed Sam on the head…then Tracey on the head…then Carol…. At one point I had to ease off in case I literally crushed them all – on top of which I suddenly became aware of them wanting to look out of the window at their new home; of course they did. The other thing was that they were naturally all exhausted from the journey which had begun over twenty four hours before in leaving Newcastle, travelling to the airport and staying overnight somewhere which may sound like a walk in the park now but back in 1976 it wasn’t easy for a young mum with two children. I’m not sure me slobbering all over them was any help at all.
(A view of Gibraltar in 1976 when the border was closed)

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As the taxi wound its way towards Trafalgar House I don’t think Tracey took her eyes off the Rock while Carol just soaked up her new environment on her very first trip outside of the U.K. Finally we arrived at the Trafalgar building and somehow managed to get everyone and everything including all the baby paraphernalia up umpteen flights of stairs to Flat 10. 


(Trafalgar House is the cream triangular building and our balcony was the wide window to the right second one down from the top)

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Tracey was quite fascinated that the Trafalgar building was triangular on the outside (like a toblerone) and hollow on the inside where residents had their washing lines on pulleys (to discourage them hanging washing from their outside balcony). It crossed my mind that Tracey mustn’t be allowed out of the flat unsupervised as it was a sheer drop to the ground floor. On my recent trip to Gibraltar I sneaked into the Trafalgar building and went up a few flights of stairs to see if I still felt the same way as I did forty years ago when I looked over the internal balcony and I did.

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Inside the flat Carol and Tracey had a look around and were really happy with it. It was spacious and had quite a nice big lounge, bunk beds in the children’s room and best of all a balcony off the kitchen looking directly over Alameda Gardens. Both Carol and Tracey loved looking out over Alameda (or as Tracey would say Alan-meda 🙂 ). Likewise as with the internal balcony we decided Tracey mustn’t be allowed on the outer balcony unsupervised.


(Photo taken today 28 June 2016)

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It was one of those situations where although everyone was shattered no-one wanted to go to sleep so we all just jumped onto the double bed and had a group hug. For the first time in weeks I felt whole again, my herd was back with me. 

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Lying on the bed Carol handed me a small present and said “Happy belated 21st birthday darling”. Forty years later I’m still wearing it 🙂

2:13 (1976) “Why are you crying Daddy?”

26 Sunday Jun 2016

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As the plane doors were flung open it immediately became one of those moments when I just didn’t want to blink in case I missed my family walking out – you know what I’m talking about, we’ve all been there no? And these were the days long before camera phones so there was no way for me to capture (and cherish) that moment in a photo. What hadn’t occurred to me was that the airline would let all the solo travellers off the plane first to clear the decks for families with small children so it almost seemed like ages since I’d blinked. My eyes were starting to feel like one of those nocturnal animals (bats?) that always seemed really wide eyed. 

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With the bright sun in my face I finally faltered, closed my eyes to rest them and then wiped the sweat from my face with a handkerchief. When I opened my eyes again I saw my little girl standing at the top of the steps looking up at the Rock in wonder. I burst into tears.

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Almost instantly I morphed into (what must have looked like) a barking mad cheer leader frantically jumping up and down waving my arms in the air (while hanging on to my three teddy bears) in an effort to get my daughters attention but her eyes were glued to the beautiful Rock (and I loved that). I loved the idea that her eyes were full of the very same wonder that was in my own eyes the first time I saw Gibraltar and I knew it would make a lasting impression on her.

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My ‘tribal rain dance’ (the one that was having absolutely no impact on my daughter whatsoever) came to an immediate halt the minute I saw Carol emerge from the plane holding Sam; almost immediately she came out she waved over at where I was standing and encouraged Tracey to do the same. I was a mess. I just stood there, bottom lip wobbling like a rubber dingy in a tidal wave and my arms stretched out like my #AngelOfTheNorth 


(My parent website is at spailpinfanac.com )

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Just reading back over this entry it isn’t difficult to pick up on how emotive things were and although I don’t profess to be a skilled writer (able to put things down poetically) I’m making no apologies for at least having a go at expressing how I felt. At the time of this event I was a young 21 year old working class Geordie boy, quite sexist and damaged from childhood experiences (you’re welcome at #memoirsofachildincare on my parent website spailpinfanac.com); and even though I probably appeared to be quite immature I literally couldn’t give a **** because I adored my family and didn’t care who knew it. (Having said that I did sense that local people watching quite admired my passion 🙂 )

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Eventually after what seemed like forever Carol and the children came through the barrier and I just grabbed the lot of them as though everyone in the world wanted to take them away from me. For a time I just held Carols face and looked into her eyes giving her one of those Eskimo nose kisses without saying anything; I didn’t want some inane conversation spoiling such an intimate moment. After all the anxiety of waiting to be separated, then the actual separation, then the stress of finding flats, failing inspections and knowing it had been really hard for Carol I wasn’t having anything negative in our lives today. It was so lovely to think in terms of ‘our’ lives ‘today’ instead of the singular; it was real. 
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I picked up my daughter Tracey and looked at her beaming little smile. “Why are you crying Daddy?” she asked. “Because I love you darling” I said.

2:12 (1976) As my family arrived in Gibraltar a tear rolled down my face.

25 Saturday Jun 2016

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Standing at the airport (holding three teddy bears) looking up into the sky said it all. 
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It had been over five weeks since I had seen my family. My new little girl was now nearly seven weeks old. When she was born she had a lovely head of hair that I remembered looked like a coconut and smelled very ‘baby’ which I loved. I’d missed that. I used to have a bizarre habit of sticking my head in the ‘baby’ cupboard to smell the freshly laundered terry-towelling fabric-softened nappies and I’d missed that as well (weird as that sounds). I wondered if the cupboard would still smell the same and whether I would still do that.

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I’d missed my little girl too; just before leaving UK we’d spent a lot of time together while Carol was in hospital. I’d missed taking her to the swing park, I’d missed reading her bedtime story, I’d missed talking to her about our new life in Gibraltar, I’d missed her smile. And yet I hoped she hadn’t missed me too much; I didn’t want her hurting because I wasn’t there. Now as I stood there at the airport looking up into the sky I so wanted her to be with me and know she felt alright; I wanted to hug her and see her smile.

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Naturally I’d really missed Carol. We hadn’t been together that long but were very emotionally close and interdependent. Part of me knew our separation had been very difficult for her (and no picnic for me either); I had a desperate need to know about everything and put her mind at rest. But not today. Today was not a day for complex conversations; today was a day about joy.

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As I looked up into the sky it was surreal to think my family was up there somewhere (at 35000 feet) flying at hundreds of miles an hour. When I think about that rationally I know flying is just a normal part of life but sometimes I’m not always rational. I wanted them down, safely down on the ground. At that a plane came into sight. 

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As I watched the plane turn and descend my heart was in my mouth. None of my family had flown before and I knew the landing would be bumpy. As it descended and I saw the DanAir logo I knew it was their plane. Just as the wheels were about to touch the ground I shut my eyes tight and kept them shut until I heard the plane slow down and the engines ease. Finally I opened my eyes and felt my heart thumping with excitement. My family had arrived in Gibraltar just at the same time a tear rolled down my face.