Tag Archives: Gibraltar

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

2:17 (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 🙂

2:10 (1976) My 21st birthday on the lash in Gibraltar

23 Thursday Jun 2016

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The 4th May 1976 was my 21st birthday and as always I was the envy of ‘Trekkies’ everywhere (May the Fourth be with You) even though I wasn’t particularly a fan. What I was a fan of though was the fact I was 13 days younger than Carol and revelled in being her ‘Toy Boy’ for almost two weeks every year (much to the delight of the children – particularly when Carol would physically show her disapproval by clouding me around the ear).

On the big 21 day I received a humongous card with loads of kisses, messages and handprints from the children and Carol (which I still treasure); I also received a telegram which was hand delivered to me by the ‘heavies’ – Naval Security?

img_3907-2 img_3908-2


(My 21st birthday card. And a pik with me five minutes ago – how organic is that?)

Bemused why the ‘heavies’ had delivered the telegram I opened it up under their watchful eye and was delighted to get a ‘Happy Birthday’ message from Carol and a confirmation that she and the children would be arriving on 13 May 1976 – what I couldn’t have known then was that exactly 40 years later to the day (13 May 2016) I would finally return to Gibraltar – but then that’s a story for Chapter 3. As for why it was the ‘heavies’ who delivered the telegram I’d have to wait until Carol’s arrival because no-one was forthcoming with an explanation. Later, when I eventually did find out and make sense of the implications, I was outraged.

(My birthday telegram and confirmation of my family’s arrival date)

Since my arrival in Gibraltar my main focus had been finding a flat and settling into my job; I hadn’t really been out drinking or anything because I had very little money and also needed to keep my drink problem at bay. But on my 21st Birthday my colleagues were having none of that and insisted in taking me out on the lash. Needless to say the only thing I remember about any of it was that I (evidently) got totally’ rat-arsed but (to both Carol’s delight and mine) the lads looked after me throughout and then put me into my own bed at the end of the night. What was a lovely touch was Brian (my P.O.) let me sleep it off the following day and if I remember rightly I finally returned to work on May 5th. I also realised my family was arriving in 12 days!!!! Eeeeeek. I had work to do.

2:9 (1976) FamPass signalled. I didn’t know whether to scream with delight or bawl my eyes out.

20 Monday Jun 2016

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Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick and when it does you make a choice. The easiest one for me right now was to take a break, ease the pressure and go have a night on the lash; do the Hole in the Wall, Tivoli, Main Street, the Buccaneer. And why not, that’s how I roll? 

But no that’s not how I roll. Not anymore. Especially not now as a family man with three people depending on me; and I never was one to take the easy option anyway. I hadn’t told Carol about the Angry Friar flat so at least I didn’t have any explaining to do. What I did do was give myself a good talking to, stopped being a wimp feeling sorry for myself and focused on being positive.

On Carol’s birthday I phoned her and although it was (always) difficult for us both hearing the other on the phone it was good to hear she was okay and that Graham and Kerrie were looking after her. Geordies are very good at looking after people although they did have a few bizarre customs I knew Carol would be exposed to; much later I had to smile when Carol told me about a ‘pickled egg eating competition’ she had with Graham on her birthday evening. Even though it was a very difficult separation for her I loved that she retained a few happy and funny memories.

(Trafalgar House Gibraltar – My photo 1976)

Not long after I had given myself that good talking to a game changer happened. Someone living in Edinburgh House had left Gibraltar and returned to UK which meant that his married quarter was now vacant. As a result another sailor who had been living in a Naval caravan could now move into that mans married quarter. Naturally a third sailor who had been living in a private flat up town was then able to move into the vacant caravan which meant ‘Bingo’ I could have his private let – and because it not long been passed by the Navy the inspection was swift and it passed again!!! Don’t you just love evolution? I immediately applied for 10, Trafalgar House, got it then sent Carol a telegram; it was 23 April 1976, two days after her 21st birthday BOOM!!! 

(Telegram to Carol 23 April 1976)

Even after finding the flat, paying a hefty deposit and informing the Navy the protocol of having a FamPass signalled to the UK took another week and still didn’t give a clear date when my family would arrive (though they did estimate 10-13 May) but that was irrelevant and neither here nor there really because the reality was that my family would be with me within weeks. I didn’t know whether to scream with delight or bawl my eyes out. I treated myself to a walk.

(Telegram to Carol 30 April 1976)

As I sat in Alameda gardens admiring my new home-to-be I realised the view from the window looked straight out over …..Alameda gardens! Words fail me.

2:5 (1976) Being back in Gibraltar I felt a familiar calm

15 Wednesday Jun 2016

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Although I’d been to Gibraltar twice I’d never flown in before and so hadn’t been aware (until a few minutes before arriving by plane) that it was a notoriously bumpy landing; if I’d known that beforehand I wouldn’t have been disappointed – good job I didn’t have false teeth!
But once my vibrating body had calmed down I was thrilled to be back. As the plane doors opened I felt the warmth of the climate and when I stepped out and saw the Rock I just stopped dead at the top of the steps to take it all in. Within an instant I felt a familiar calm.


(Above a stock photo from 1976)

Transport from HMS Rooke had been sent to pick me up and as we drove from the airport to Rooke Barracks my eyes were all over the place spotting familiar places, landmarks and streets. Recently (in 2016) when I made a similar journey from the airport to the town centre I just about managed to still spot a few familiar places (e.g Edinburgh House) although because of modern developments it wasn’t easy; by contrast today (1976) I recognised loads and I loved that.

Arriving at Rooke some of the first people I met (after security) were my new work colleagues since part of our role (in stores) was to issue bedding etc to new arrivals; within a few minutes I had met my new Petty Officer Brian, a Leading Rate Sandy (who would become a good friend) and Phil, one of the Jack Dusty’s who would become quite a regular baby sitter. Forgive me for ‘again’ drifting back to my recent visit (I will try to curb doing that) but when I visited Rooke Barracks in 2016 it was very bizarre seeing my old office building now being used by the Gibraltar Police. I almost got to see my old desk by peering through the gate but decided I had better move on because I was starting to look a bit suspicious.

After collecting my bedding Phil took me down to the mess deck where I claimed an empty bunk and sat down. At this time I had no idea how long I would be in barracks or how long it would take me to find a flat and get it passed by the Navy so that I could get my FamPass. Looking at my single bunk was a massive reality check; the journey was over, the anticipation was over, the excitement was subsiding and my family were hundreds of miles away. All of a sudden I felt as though I’d been hit with a sledge hammer. I think Phil (bless him) picked up on how I must have been feeling and bade a quiet ‘Catch you later then’ before closing the door behind him. 

I’ve realised with age when I feel very emotional I have a profound need to either write or draw or even sometimes pick up my guitar and sing. Today I absolutely needed to write to Carol because I knew in doing that I would be with her, talking to her. It took many hours and many tears to write that first letter.