3:19 (2016) Ceremony of the Guard Mounting

30 Friday Sep 2016

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By the time I got down to Convent Place quite a crowd had gathered and although I was vaguely aware of the Ceremony of Guard Mounting it had been so long since I’d been a spectator I couldn’t remember too much about it. What I did know was that I was going to be even later (than I’d initially anticipated) in getting back to my travelling companions at the Bristol because there was no way I was going to miss this event. 

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(The Angry Friar)

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Almost as though by fate I found myself (once again) standing outside the door to the apartment above the Angry Friar – the apartment I’d applied for back in 1976 but which the Navy wouldn’t let me have (see 2:8) because it didn’t pass their inspection. Looking at the door I recalled how absolutely gutted I felt back then and yet today I felt a certain endearment toward it that it has somehow managed to secure itself a very unique place in my life story. I can never walk past that door without recalling the day I walked through it.


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(The Governor of Gibraltar)

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As I mingled with the crowd I noticed that most people were holding a leaflet and so I stuck my neck out and asked a nice roving policeman for one – he kindly obliged and purloined one for me from somewhere. As I stood in the crowd reading my leaflet I noticed people coming out onto the balcony and it wasn’t long before it was crowded with dignitaries including the Governor himself. The Ceremony began with soldiers marching out in ceremonial style and taking their place in the square; after a dialogue between the Governor and the Officer in Charge of the parade it wasn’t long before the military band arrived to the crowds delight.


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Although the pomp and ceremony was wonderful to watch (particularly with me being ex-military) I also loved the way the steeped history of how the Royal Gibraltar Regiment keeps the Rock and her residents safe was illustrated; I also loved how the changing of the guard took place to the wonderful music (including By Land and Sea) of The Band and Corps of Drums of the Royal Gibraltar Regiment. 


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I felt very lucky to have caught this ceremony (almost by chance) after already having had such an amazing morning on the Med Steps, in Alameda and gate-crashing Trafalgar House. When the ceremony ended I finally set off for the Bristol Hotel to meet up with Carol and our friends for lunch with quite a few tales to share with them.


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3:18 (2016) Walking down Main Street could almost have been as though I was walking to work.

29 Thursday Sep 2016

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(Trafalgar Cemetery)

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After leaving Trafalgar House I passed by Trafalgar Cemetery (which is steeped in history) and although I was dying to go in (bad joke) I decided I really did need to press on and meet up with Carol, Sheila and Joe at the Bristol – heaven only knows where they thought I was, I seem to have been out hours. And so with enormous self-discipline I walked past the cemetery and through the archway onto Main Street promising myself I would be back to visit the cemetery later in the week.


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On the other side of the road I spotted Inces Hall and paused awhile to reflect. We’d been to quite a few functions there, notably the one I remember most was a concert by an Irish Trio called the Bachelors which I wrote about earlier (see 2:33). Looking at the building it was nice to see it was so well looked after – it looked as though it had just had a fresh coat of paint – and (by the look of the posters outside) it was also still very much a ‘happening’ place for cultural events. 


(Inces hall)

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A little further down the road was Sir John Mackintosh Hall which I’m not sure if I remember being there in the 70s and wondered if it had been built since? It looked very modern. From where I was standing I saw what looked like military personnel in white uniforms gathering outside the Hall in preparation for an event. As I got nearer I looked through the windows of the hall and saw there was a library and other facilities such as reception rooms for corporate events; I got the impression (as with Inces Hall) it was also a cultural establishment but on a slightly posher scale? The military personnel I’d spotted from a distance were a band who were indeed getting ready for an event and so I thought I may just hang around a while to see what it was.


(John Mackintosh Hall)

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Looking down Main Street towards Convent Place seemed so familiar and as though time had stood still; as I walked down the road it could almost have been as though I was walking to work from Trafalgar House to HMS Rooke. 

Looking closer I noticed quite a crowd beginning to gather in Convent Place and realised straight away what the military band were preparing for; they were getting ready for the Convent Guard Mount (just when I thought my day couldn’t get any better!). Somehow I had a feeling I was going to be even later back to the Bristol than I thought I would.


(Looking down Main Street towards Convent Place)

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3:17 (2016) “Hey, remember me?” It’s good to see you again.

28 Wednesday Sep 2016

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After leaving the Alameda I came down into the car park by the cable car terminal and saw (directly in front of me) a very familiar building, my old home Trafalgar House. 

To my left were the apartment blocks by the Fire Station where one of my readers (MG) recalls lovely memories of having lived there as a child particularly with having the Alameda right outside her door; what a blessed childhood! From where I was standing I could only imagine the views from the apartments which must have been awesome; from one side there is the Alameda and the Rock and from the other side (there must have been) sea views over Rosia? 

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(Cable car and the Rock)

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Passing the cable car terminal naturally brought back many lovely memories of trips up the Rock with the children to see the apes and I know Carol, Sheila and Joe all wanted to do the trip during the week and so I checked out times and prices. I often say that if you didn’t go visit the apes during your stay then you didn’t ‘do’ Gibraltar. (It’s unthinkable).


(Looking up at my old apartment, Trafalgar House)

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As I finally approached (what I tend to call) Trafalgar Island (because the road goes completely around it) I looked up at the old place with both affection and thanks (really) because although we lived high up in Number 10 Trafalgar House, climbing the steps to our apartment were a small price to pay to have my family with me earlier. Although I knew full well where the entrance was I deliberately took the long way round the ‘island’ (clockwise) just to touch base and sort of say to this lovely old building ‘Hey,remember me? It’s good to see you again’.


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After walking completely around the building I finally arrived at the entrance which was almost opposite the Trafalgar Cemetery. The first thing I noticed that had changed was that there was now a locked outside door where there used to be an open lobby – you may recall (see 2:16) I wrote about that lobby and an incident that happened when Carol and I returned from our night out at St.Michaels Cabin – there was also a new shiny brass plaque by the door.


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As I stood looking at the door from a few yards away a man came out and walked off in a hurry; as he did so I noticed the door was closing very, very slowly and on the spur of the moment (as if by instinct) I shot forward and slipped inside before it closed behind me. 


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Inside, my heart was pumping because part of me knew I shouldn’t be in the building as it was clearly private to residents only but the temptation to revisit had just been too much. For a while I stood frozen as I listened to hear if anyone else was moving around until I finally convinced myself it was safe to move. I quietly began climbing a set of steps that I recognised until I literally got myself outside the very door of my old apartment (terrified that the present resident might just open the door and ask me what I was up to). 

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Fortunately no-one did come out and for a wonderful five minutes I was back there at my apartment in 1976 with my family chatting to other residents across the inner triangle where we all had a washing line. No amount of money could have bought that experience for me and I don’t imagine any amount of explanation from me would ever convince my readers or anyone else how much those five minutes meant to me.


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Although a part of me could have stayed there all day I knew I had to go and somehow managed to slip out of the building as quietly as I’d slipped in. Before walking on a took a quick selfie with the brass plaque and then crossed the road towards the Trafalgar Cemetery. 

As I looked back I almost felt the old place say thank you. So I said it back out loud. “Thank You”.

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3:16 (2016) Alameda Children’s Garden

25 Sunday Sep 2016

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I’m not sure how long I’d sat pondering in Alameda but eventually I just stood up feeling very relaxed, refreshed and happy that over the coming week I would be able to explore the gardens more leisurely when I didn’t feel so pressed for time. At the back of my mind I was aware my travelling companions (Carol, Sheila and Joe) might be holding back on going for lunch (pending me getting back) and so I thought I’d better hoof it back to the Bristol.
(The lovely Dell in Alameda Gardens)


(Gibraltar’s Castle and keys emblem)

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In good faith I headed off toward the main entrance (near the cable car terminal) although (as many people who know me would agree) I’m very easily distracted and would be the first to put my hand up and admit it. I hadn’t gone far when I came across the footbridge by the beautiful Dell – and for me to not stop and admire the Castle and Keys on the lawn and the lovely water fountain would have been a travesty! From what I’ve read online recently the Dell has become an increasingly popular wedding location and I’m not in the least bit surprised; I don’t think I’ve ever seen such beautifully greener grass anywhere (maybe New Zealand at a push) and the sound of the water from the fountain just gives it all that lovely Zen finishing.


(The Welcome sign to the Children’s Garden)

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Dragging myself away and over the footbridge I turned left to go down to the lower lane where the playground is/used to be (at this point I didn’t know if it was still there or not) and spotted a new Children’s Garden on the bend. Craning my neck to look between the bars of the fence for a better view I was totally captivated and rewarded with lovely views of a delightful project; local children who were members of their own Garden Club were growing herbs and vegetables and heaven only knows what else all of which were labelled and flourishing. As I looked between the bars of the fence I felt like a child looking into Santa’s Grotto. It was lovely.


(The lovely Children’s Garden complete with scarecrows and Bee Hotel)

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From what I could see the children also made crazy pavement and risen garden areas with their own very unique scare crows – one of them, made from plant-pots, looked like something out of a TV show that was on on in the 60s (Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men). And just as I was thinking that it was one of the most magical things I’d ever seen I spotted their ‘Bee Hotel’ and was totally hooked. I loved the whole concept so much that I decided there and then it was an idea I would be taking back to the UK for the children I work with professionally. A ‘Bee Hotel’. Priceless!


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I’m not sure how I finally managed to drag myself out of the lovely Alameda but at least I knew it wouldn’t be 40 years before I got back…it would be tomorrow 🙂

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3:15 (2016) A single picture (in Alameda) can speak a thousand words

24 Saturday Sep 2016

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Slipping down left from the Main Road into Alameda Botanical Gardens was (for me) like walking into the garden of Eden; the minute I entered it was almost like arriving on a different (though very familiar) planet. If there’s such a concept as a  ‘place’ being happy to receive an old friend then the way I felt needs no explanation; it was almost as though I was having a telepathic two-way conversation with the trees, the bushes, the cacti and the shrubs. We were all welcoming each other. Especially the Wonky Tree that looked as though it was bending down getting ready to whisper something to me.
(The Wonky Tree)

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Just a few yards in and the sound of traffic was replaced by a very beautiful silence, a silence I hadn’t heard since 21 November 1976 (see post 2:59) when the only sounds to break the silence then were the sounds of our children playing on the park (for the last time before we flew back to UK). Walking down into the hub of the gardens was both astonishing and thrilling. It was astonishing because it felt as though I’d never been away and it was thrilling because wherever I went within this gorgeous labyrinth I knew exactly where I was. Although there had been new developments (that I was yet to discover) fundamentally (to me) the only change I detected was that it was ever more tranquil and beautiful.


(Sometimes words are not necessary)

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I could tell you that Wikipedia says the gardens were commissioned in 1816 by the then Governor of Gibraltar General George Don so that his soldiers had somewhere recreational to go when off duty and that local people could enjoy the outdoors and be protected from the extreme sun. But you can easily read that for yourself (along with the history of the Rock, it’s politics and other statistics of general interest). However if  I had anything at all to say about George Don’s vision and the creation of the Alameda (speaking as an apolitical, yet pro-British non-Gibraltarian) it would be – thank you.


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Sometimes I think words are not always necessary, and (as the old saying goes) a picture can speak a thousand words. When I look at some of the many photographs I took as I walked through the Alameda I don’t think anything I say today could add to what they say. This enchanted corner of this enchanting Rock enchants all who encounter it all on its own without any help from anywhere. What I did know was that during my seven day stay (in addition to whatever else I did) I would visit the Alameda every day.


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Although I didn’t have a lot of time – having spent the whole morning on the Med Steps –  I was happy enough to take a seat and at least spend a little time with ‘my old friend Alameda’ and for us both drift away into our world, if only for a while. 

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

23 Friday Sep 2016

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

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

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(The road to Alameda)

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


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


(With Alameda behind)

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

22 Thursday Sep 2016

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

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(2016 St.Michael’s Cabin)

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

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

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

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


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3:12 (2016) ‘My Gibraltar’

22 Thursday Sep 2016

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

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


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


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


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

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


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

20 Tuesday Sep 2016

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


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

(Caleta Palace, Catalan Bay and Eastern Beach)

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

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


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


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

18 Sunday Sep 2016

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


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


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


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


(RockHeart Profile photo)

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

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