Round and round the gardens

Prrrring prrring. Prrrring prrrring. Who was that disturbing me on the ‘phone when I was busy doing nothing?

Ah, it was the working half of the household, requiring a jacket, cap and neck protection because he was working in full sun.

He took the cap the other day but without the neck protection.

‘Aren’t you going to take the neck bit?’ I asked.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t want to look silly.’

He’d clearly decided that looking silly was better than burning.

After searching high and low in the flat, I eventually found the required goodies and dutifully trotted up to the job.

Decorator joins the French foreign legion

Clothing handed over, idle chat finished, I wandered off. Sensibly I had the camera with me and as the job was right opposite the botanical gardens, in I nipped.

I’ve made a lot more effort this year to try and go in different months to see the changes. Although we have such a mild – sub-tropical – climate often with little variation in temperatures, it’s surprising how different the gardens can look.

Why is the street light on at 11am?

Lighting my way in the day

Round the gardens I went, anti-clockwise for once, and up to the native section, in the hopes that the rare and unique Gibraltar species may be in flower. My luck was in. The Gibraltar sea lavender was blooming. Well sort of. I was pretty disappointed in this one!

Sea lavender – a rare species

More about Gib’s rare plants on this post about the Alameda Gardens back in February.

But the fountain was nice. A cool and green spot in the heat of the day.

Cool fountain

Better still were the two baby, or rather not so baby but young, seagulls who were out to play and testing their wings.

Hop, skip and a jump up the steps

I decided to wander past the Wildlife Sanctuary or whatever it is called. I’ve never been in. Apart from the fact that it is a couple of quid (I think) I don’t like gawping at animals in cages.

Not much space to fly

When I went on the – free – tour round the gardens (monthly on a Saturday), we were told that the animals in the park mainly come from seizures by HM Customs of animals that were being smuggled. In which case, I suppose the park is a) better than them being killed and b) better than their probable destination.

We were also told that staff at the park had been trying to negotiate for animals to be transferred to larger zoos/parks/whatever in Spain – but the odd few problems with Gib and Spain put a stop to that.

They also have unwanted exotic pets and animals such as the Cotton-topped tamarin, on loan from international Zoos, to raise awareness of important endangered species.

The park aims to:

• provide the best possible care for all animals at the conservation park
• teach and inspire people of all ages and backgrounds to engage in conservation of wildlife and habitats
• take part in European and international breeding programmes which help protect endangered species
• raise awareness of conservation and biodiversity
• re-home confiscated animals they cannot house at the park
• educate and help people to choose exotic pets wisely whilst supporting international campaigns against the illegal pet trade.

Walking around the outside you can usually see a few birds and monkeys but they must all have been asleep or moved elsewhere. It doesn’t look too bad from this sneaky pic I took through a hole in the fencing.

Inside the conservation park

But what saddos do this??

Feed them to the lions I say

To end on a more cheerful note, here are the lovely fish from the pond in The Dell.

Just swimming around

All flower posts from this trip will make their way onto Everypicturetellsone.

And Partner’s Spanish co-worker didn’t think he looked at all silly in his French foreign legion hat. In fact, he thought it was extremely sensible.

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Monday, Monday (la la, la la la)

Courtesy of The Mamas and The Papas, except before pop experts correct me apparently it is ba-da ba-da. Oh well, I always sing la la to songs as I never listen to words.

But not just any Monday because today is also Birthday, Birthday. Glorious blaze of self-promotion there.

Every year it strikes me as bizarre to get greetings from people I’ve never met over the internet, and nothing from people I do know.

So thanks to the ones who have already sent good wishes to me (and my partner, whose birthday was yesterday), very much appreciated. In the FaceBook days, one would get amazing greetings from all over the world, which may seem pretty meaningless but it still took time for people to notice and type out a message. Despite our lack of presence, I thought I had better check on Partner’s page yesterday – and – more greetings from kind-hearted souls.

Not being friend, family or party orientated – what do two mid 50s do on their birthdays?

Take the dog for a walk up the side of the Alameda gardens past the huge olive trees.

Walking by the olive trees

Thought I better add that one for Pippafans as an interim pic until I post on his blog.

We watched a film, kindly lent to us by one of Partner’s workmates.

It was brilliant. I am not into any sort of violence, drugs, or gangland culture but this was one good film. It made Reservoir Dogs look soft.

One of the great things about good British films is that they are incredibly minimalist – which makes them all the harder hitting.

This was very hard hitting. Literally.

Plot: Well, it’s based on Carlton Leach who I’d not heard of, but I had heard of football violence.

There can’t be anyone who lived in the UK in the late 70s and 80s who wasn’t aware of football violence. And this was every week, not just the odd international.

I went to a local derby between Everton and Liverpool in the late 70s and there was nothing. Not that I could see the match very well with my poor eyesight and no contact lenses back then but still, it was a good event with no violence. Or maybe we didn’t see it.

Every weekend I would travel home from university and on the return journey I always met a group of Man Utd supporters – they were lovely. I was pretty wary at first, and this was in the days of closed compartments, but we just chatted away until they got out at St Helens. I became quite sad when there was an away match and there were no nice lads to brighten the journey. Who knows if they were thugs? I don’t.

Early 80s, I went to see Leeds United v Newcastle. Now this was the stuff violence was made of. There was a fair amount of antagonism between the supporters of the two teams anyway, and they didn’t keep it off pitch either.

Kevin Keegan, playing for Newcastle, was pelted first with tiny items, and then with cans. I think they stopped the game at one point. It was also the period when ‘hooligans’ used to chuck ball bearings under horses’ feet rendering mounted police totally useless, which, sadly we saw when we left the ground at the end of the match.

We beat a hasty retreat, especially when we noticed the fires that had been started on the grass area around the outside of Elland Road (Leeds Utd home ground). In fact it even merits a mention on Wiki – match of October 1982. Always good to attend historic events I find.

Back to the film. This was based on membership of the West Ham football firm (Inter City Firm).

I always thought Millwall were the hardest toughest ones. Either way, all the supporters of London clubs were ‘ard as nails – Chelsea, Arsenal, Millwall, West Ham – do hope I haven’t missed any out there as I would hate them to target my blog.

But looking at Wiki again, apparently the Leeds United Service Crew has a reputation for being the most notorious hooligan firm in the history of English football. Phew! That’s good, wouldn’t want to be outdone by all those London clubs.

More Wiki:

The first instance of football violence is unknown, but the phenomenon can be traced back to the 14th century England.

The first recorded instances of football hooliganism in the modern game allegedly occurred during the 1880s in England, a period when gangs of supporters would intimidate neighbourhoods, in addition to attacking referees, opposing supporters and players. In 1885, after Preston North End beat Aston Villa 5-0 in a friendly match, both teams were pelted with stones, attacked with sticks, punched, kicked and spat at. One Preston player was beaten so severely that he lost consciousness and press reports at the time described the fans as “howling roughs”.

It’s so good to be a world leader at something isn’t it? Well, in the past anyway.

In the film, Mr Leach moves from bashing the shit out of people at football matches, to bouncing (bashing the shit out of more people) to the drugs industry, crime protection (uh? contradiction in terms) to involvement with torture and murder, I think, as I did get a bit lost with the amount of rather sad bodies that appeared in this film and who was doing what to who. I’m not very good on keeping up with films. Women (blonde of course) take their clothes off, are ‘gagging for it’, and wives/partners get slapped around.

The film ends with the 1995 Rettendon Murders which I only vaguely remember. (Rettendon is in Essex – which was probably why I couldn’t understand the accents half the time).

Good points about the film? There were lots of Land Rovers in it. British films should always have Land Rovers in and this did well, spotted – 1) Range Rover (the murder vehicle), 2) Defender (driver discovered the bodies in the RR), and 3) a Series earlier.

What else? Realistic (sadly). Succinct. Gripping – ie I didn’t fall asleep. Well filmed.

Directed by Julian Gilbey and running time is 114 minutes.

It’s based on the book by Carlton Leach called Muscle which he wrote in 2003. Should a former crim receive money from a book and film rights? Who is to say? I’m not arguing with him. Either way, a great film despite my criticism of the subject matter. You don’t have to agree with a film to acknowledge it is good.

Oh and today, well just another manic – birthday – Monday. (courtesy of The Bangles).

Opened up the sandwich and salad bar, read all your lovely blogs, and now have a pile of stuff to do……

The salad pots get more exotic!

Grilled and marinated pimientos, stuffed curried egg, tomato, cucumber, olives, potato salad – capers and onion marinated in red wine vinegar.

ETA a cheerful party song after Phil’s comment:

Domestics

No, no not cleaners. Although we did have one once.

My Partner did exactly the same as my mother and went round cleaning the house the day before so it was nice for when she arrived. I ask you. The Roughseas foot went firmly down and we managed not to get her back after we took a holiday. We slipped back into happy slovenliness, rather like now.

Firstly, domestics on the blog. Both thehistorytourist and canoe & communications have recently given me The Versatile Blogger Award. I shan’t bother with the silly rules but I will mention the two blogs which are both well worth a visit.

In their own words:

canoe & communications

Imagine yourself walking up a wooded path to a place where you can talk with others about ideas, nature, travel, literature and events–Canoe Communications Blog.   It’s a blog where you can learn a little about Midwestern culture and life and more.

thehistorytourist

This is a travel diary about trips to my favorite destination – historic sites.   I’m not a historian but a lover of history, especially early American history.   And I’m lucky enough to live in the Washington DC area, where there’s an endless supply to feed my addiction.  I write this blog with the hope that you’ll be entertained and find some useful information for your travels.

I’ve learned more about American history in the last few weeks than in my entire life!! Great photos too.

And I should add a special thanks to thehistorytourist for including Pippa in the awards as well, but I’m not letting him near the keyboard at the moment. Dogblogging to resume, later. Ish. With photos of Pippa’s encounter with the lovely vampire dog upstairs.

Melody has given me the One Lovely Blog Award. I was extremely flattered to be the odd person out on her list of seven nominees, which apart from mine were all photography blogs. As she said:

Okay, this is the odd man out today – er, woman, actually – because it isn’t strictly a photography blog, although there are great snaps here too.  It is stories from everyday life in Gibraltar, which I am finding to be very informative and interesting!  Check it out!

Thanks Melody. What I liked about that, was that my blog about life in a tiny place, thousands of miles away from most of you, is interesting enough to make it onto a list, when all the others are stunning visual photoblogs. It’s nice to know that in a different way, people enjoy visiting mine. In this case, I definitely liked being odd one out.

Here is the link to Melody’s page where she lists the photoblogs, so if you like photography, you may want to have a peek.

Melody herself has two blogs, one about the garden, and the other has beautiful photos – usually of her gorgeous flowers – and with a poem. The link above is to the poetry/photoblog, so if you like either photography or poetry or both, well worth a visit.

And I’ll end with The Commentator Award which I received from Rahul who is an engineering student from Kerala and I love his photos of India.

This is a slightly different award in that it is based on the most frequent commenters from your stats. I shan’t embarrass the six of you who appear on my stats by naming you and I’m sure you can work out who you are.

I think that’s it for awards, thank you for the nominations. I’m not writing boring stuff about me, and I’m not listing a zillion blogs. What I will do is start a new ‘blogs I visit’ page as I’ve found some other interesting ones since I first set up the initial page. And there is nothing worse than a long list.

And, I’ve also altered settings so that the blog shows one post only. I hope that improves loading time, please let me know if you have any views. There’s a balance between faster loading and being able to read quickly by scrolling.

Next. A quick nip to Spain.

‘We were expecting you yesterday,’ said our neighbours (in Spanish, obviously) when we arrived on the Sunday for a long weekend due to Queen’s birthday holiday.

‘I’ve watered the garden, but I ran out of water from your containers so I used mine.’

Well that’s very sweet, but I don’t think an 85 year-old pensioner should be using his metered water for my garden. So I suggested we install the water butt. We’ve had this for years. We never installed it in the UK, and we’ve never put it up in Spain either, partly because there is no guttering. Its most useful role has been storing fake Christmas trees.

Up it went, balanced on a crate. José came round to inspect and promptly put the wheelbarrow in front to shade the butt from the sun. We had to prove it was high enough off the ground to get the watering can underneath, and with that he was satisfied. Good old boy.

Safely installed

On the way back there was a bush fire. It was a biggy. Other photos will be on the Landy blog.

Smoke

On the Gib front? A new bus service has started, a number seven to Mount Alvernia, which is an old peoples’ home. Some of the older residents are fit enough to travel into town, and it will also provide a service for relatives, friends, charity workers, and staff who work there (depending on their hours of course). There is a trial period of three months. Nice move there.

Samantha Sacramento Minster for Equality and Social Services noted that she is delighted that this service has been commenced in response to requests made by visitors to Mount Alvernia, as well as representations made by the charity Friends of Mount Alvernia and that this was long overdue given the location of Mount Alvernia and the access difficulties that it entails.

Commenting on the above, the Minister noted: “We must be mindful of the fact that given that the majority of the residents at Mount Alvernia are in their 80s and 90s, their visitors will mainly be their spouses and children, most of whom will be elderly themselves. Historically, access to Mount Alvernia has always been a struggle to the extent that it has been a deterrent for elderly relatives who would otherwise visit more frequently.

As it’s Saturday, it’s reenactment day. At noon, there is a march up and down Main Street which is always colourful and interesting.

Having a chat

Like the last post, I’ll finish with food. If you’ve read my Quorn post on Clouds, you’ll know I’m not a huge fan of the stuff (ie Quorn, I like food).

Due to the bush fire the other day, we had a rather extended journey as the road was closed off, and we had to go back on ourselves and detour. Arriving at Morrisons, I grabbed a bag of ready made pasta off the shelf for a fast, easy and hopefully tasty meal. Making pasta is not my strong point, which I wrote about on Ravioli unravelled.

Recommended

I’d bought some setas (oyster mushrooms) in Spain and had some left, so thought a complementary sauce would be better than the usual tomato. I also thought there weren’t many ravioli in the bag, so a sauce was needed. And an extremely large green salad. They were yum.

Yum

They were so yum that I went to look for the spinach and ricotta version the other day but obviously everyone else thought that was yum and there were none left. I bought tomato and basil or something tortellini, which I did serve with a tomato sauce. More yum. And – I made two meals out of that lot.

No recipes, you all know how to buy pasta from the supermarket and make mushroom or tomato sauce. It’s not vegan, but at least the egg is free-range. In summer when inspiration is lacking, it makes a great meal with a good salad.

Makes a brunch too. Buen provecho.

Last of the tortellini and salad for brunch

Sofia the artist

Internet meet-ups are a hit and miss affair.

It’s anyone’s guess as to whether people you have encountered on a forum, or Facebook, or via blogs, will turn out to be great fun or a pain in the neck.

The first couple we met, from South Africa, were great. I’ll draw a veil over the next internet meet-up. The third meeting, a couple of friends from Scotland, was another good session and sadly we didn’t get to see one of them again on a return visit to Spain last year. A fourth meet with someone else never happened.

I guess you just need a pretty open mind, and if you don’t get on, shrug your shoulders and accept that’s life.

So at the weekend, we smartened ourselves up (vaguely), and wandered down to Casemates for another close encounter of the internet kind. A couple from America with their charming daughter Sofia.

You don’t have to read far on my blogs to find out I am not particularly child-friendly. It’s not that I like or dislike them (screaming babies excepted – they are totally vile), but little people on the whole just don’t interest me.

But Sofia was like I used to be. She kept herself perfectly occupied while the grown-ups were chatting, didn’t interrupt, stamp her feet, or generally be obnoxious. I didn’t know they made children like that any more. Amazing.

I was busy admiring her work – far better than I could ever produce at any age – so she gave me her creations. Thank you Sofia. She agreed I could put them on my blog, so here they are.

A selection of coloured drawings by Sofia

Our new friends were staying in the trendy and somewhat expensive Ocean Village, so we agreed to go back to their flat to have a look.

We’ve actually seen a couple of these before, because we’ve priced work in a few and co-incidentally Partner had worked in one just down from their holiday flat.

What did surprise me was the view. Not of the Rock, because I know what that looks like. But that I could actually manage to get out on the balcony and take photos because of the nice high glass screen. Takes a lot to get me on a fifth floor balcony.

However, the west facing side of the Rock looked beautiful in the evening sun, so as I had not bothered taking a camera, they kindly lent me theirs and then forwarded the photos to me.

Looking across Casemates towards the Moorish Castle on the left at the top of the Upper Town area

Looking south, with the Reloj (clock) and the recently painted and refurbished market hall on the right

And an earlier pic I took at OV…

The luxurious pool area at Ocean Village

It was a very pleasant evening in good company, and before we went home we decided to call in Pizza Express (also at Ocean Village) where a few months back Partner had painted the bars at the restaurant.

Good practice. Wet paint signs and the area is taped off

They have a new menu which includes a Leggera Pizza. This involves taking out the centre of the pizza dough and filling it with a salad. That seems a particularly good idea to me, as both salads and pizzas are around £9 each on their own, so you get both at once for that price. There is a decent vegetarian choice, including a vegetarian chicken salad, with not just chicken but anchovies too. Ooops! Partner enjoyed helpfully pointing this out when he paid the bill.

Wonder how many of those menus with a chicken and anchovy salad, described as vegetarian, they’ve had printed??

Summer hours in Gibraltar

Are a law unto themselves.

They start in June. When they start in June is another matter.

The other day I needed to go to the post offices in Gib, naturally, the one where you buy stamps to send mail to the UK is not the same one where you have to go to collect registered mail.

I checked on the website to see if there was any information about summer hours. No. Apart from the information that tells you what those hours are. That’s great, but I want to know when it starts. Second week in June? Is that from the 8th of June? The second Monday? The end of the second week or the start of it? Why not start at the beginning of June and make life simple?

Summer hours are this bizarre concept that means office workers can’t possibly work later than lunchtime and need to go home, eat, sleep, go to the beach or whatever else they do.

I mean, it’s a hard life in an air-conditioned office yes? Does my parter working on a construction site in the heat of the sun get summer hours? No. Although ironically our Spanish neighbour did when he was working on a local building firm. Instead of 8am-2pm and then 3-6pm, he worked from 7am-3pm.

But back to Gib. I arrived at the post office that sells stamps just after 2pm and asked when summer hours would be starting. ‘We’re on summer hours already,’ she beamed. ‘We close at 2.15.’

I glanced at the clock, nearly 2.15pm. Not much chance of me legging it round to the other post office to collect the registered mail when it’s ten minutes walk away.

All government offices do summer hours. Naturally, they don’t all do the same summer hours. A bit like they don’t all do the same hours anyway. Some open at 8.30, 8.45, 9.00 etc etc, and then closing time can be anywhere between 12 noon and 1pm. Some open in the afternoon and some don’t.

Nine to five? Forget it in Gibraltar.

The shops are the same, some take a lunch break, some don’t. Some work summer hours, some don’t. Businesses too.

And to complete the inconsistency, everyone embarks on their summer hours schedule at different dates. At some point in June.

In fact the only time to get anything done is between 10am-12noon.

Summer hours end in September. But don’t ask me when.

Confused? Me too, and I’ve been here five years.

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Queen’s birthday parade in Gibraltar

The alternative version.

Taking the dog out for his early evening walk (without camera of course), we noticed a couple of posh cars coming up Main Street. Being early evening it was peaceful and quiet.

A balding old guy in the first car waved at someone in the street, certainly wasn’t me.

In the next car an extremely distinguished man in white dress (or was it undress?) naval uniform nodded at Partner. Huh??

‘That was the Governor,’ said Partner, helpfully. Seems that after meeting each other in the street on early morning dog runs, they are now on nodding terms. Personally I doubt Gov Adrian recognised Partner at all, everyone knows that dog people are only recognised by their dogs. Just as well we had Pippa with us for ID.

The Governor walks a couple of boxers so as we only have one large dog, Partner dutifully crosses the road, or makes a quick detour to avoid any confrontation between three large dogs.

Anyway, at this point I had worked out that the waving balding guy – who in fact is younger than me – was no less than Prince Edward, Earl of Wessex, on his royal visit to Gib. Sorry Ed, I’d have waved if I’d realised.

Seems they were attending the start of the Queen’s birthday parade in Casemates, billed for 8pm, and then the usual wander up Main Street. I decided to go. I went early in case it was busy. It wasn’t. When I got to Casemates it was empty. All finished. It had obviously been moved forward.

Casemates – think I missed it somehow

Just as well I got this lot wandering up Main Street in their best dress all set to attend the royal garden party.

As there are usually prizes for fancy dress parades I shall allocate them accordingly.

First prize: these two rather dashing naval officers. I do think men look so wonderful in naval uniforms, regardless of whether it is dark blue or white. And look, the darling on the left is smiling at me. How can every girl not love a sailor?

Deserving prize winners – even marching in step!

Second prize: these discretely dressed men (apart from the stylish hat of course), one of whom is ostentatiously brandishing his envelope containing the coveted invitation.

Third prize: This tastefully but smartly dressed older couple and the two young women behind them. Nice understatement.

I won’t give a worst dressed prize – too many contestants there among the women in their crazy heels (one had to stop in the middle of the streets as she was nearly falling off one of them) and whacky outfits. Still, no doubt they all had a good time and will boast about it for ages.

Silly hat

Waving or hiding their faces? Royal Gib Reg

No gate crashing this party at The Convent

Anyway, Ed and Sophs are off back today, so buen viaje, hope you enjoyed your trip, and sorry I didn’t get to see you apart from that fleeting wave.

The Royal Standard which has been flying above The Convent since our guests arrived

Note about the Royal Standard. This is flown when the Queen and selective members of the royal family are in residence. The Earl of Wessex has his own royal standard, which is the same as the Queen’s with a tiny variation. The flag of Gibraltar is normally flown at The Convent (the Governor’s residence).

A more serious post on Cloudsmovingin about the political issues surrounding the visit – and the Falklands too.

Gib trip (2) – Rosia

Rosia is one of those strange Gib gems.

There are no bars, shops, pubs, restaurants (that I’ve ever noticed) so apart from anything else it is quiet.

I pronounced it wrongly the first time I said it. Rosía, I said spanishly – ross – eee – ah. Nope, it’s rosier, except slightly softer in the middle s.

You can get the number four bus to Rosia, or you can walk. It’s pretty flat and a pleasant walk – unless you are rushing to watch a flotilla of course.

A few years ago, there was some controversy regarding the destruction of the water tanks at Rosia.

The Rosia Tanks were built 1799-1804 because Admiral St Vincent was staying ashore in Gibraltar in 1799 and realised that a reliable water supply and victualling store were needed there. There were no other British or allied naval bases in the Mediterranean and Tetuan and Ceuta could not be relied upon consistently for supplies.

From this site about the history of the water tanks.

They were still being used by the MOD until 2004 when they were handed over to the government, which sealed their fate.

Despite an appeal by the local heritage trust, the GSD (Gibraltar Social Democrats – right of centre) government, in its wisdom, carried ahead with the demolition in favour of building some expensive flats. Who cares about the odd 200 plus years of history?

Photos of the somewhat tasteless and unattractive flats (The Anchorage) included below on the slideshow.

Rosia is also known locally for having its own microclimate. Sheltered by the Rock, but not too close, so often avoiding the levanter cloud, facing west, and fanned by gentle sea breezes (this sounds like a property advert).

Looking at the bay from the top of 5th battery

It’s also the place where Nelson’s body either did or did not come ashore to Gib. Local lore has it that he did, but there is no documented evidence to prove that. Fact or folklore, who knows? Anyway, the Victory certainly came to Rosia.

Around the corner from Rosia, and accessed via some short tunnels, are Camp Bay and Little Bay. While Rosia was virtually empty and quiet – the other bays were full of people enjoying the water and the sun. I preferred enjoying Rosia to ourselves.

Enjoying the sunny holiday

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And my favourite photo of the day got its own post over on my not-a-photoblog – everypicture.

Diamond Jubilee Monday in Gibraltar

Monday must be flotilla day.

Launching, if flotillas launch, perhaps they depart, at 12 noon from Ocean Village.

We would leave at 11.30am, I proclaimed, for a leisurely stroll down.

Pippa, on hearing this, promptly jumped up at 11am and demanded to go out. This performance consists of a very large dog twirling around in circles in an extremely small flat cleverly managing to avoid all pieces of furniture. How, I have no idea.

While they went out, I jumped in the shower. I jumped out again. They still weren’t back at 11.30am.

He’d met a neighbour who was going to watch the flotilla up at Rosia. Apparently there would be a good view of them coming around the Bay of Algeciras.

We changed plans. Rosia was nearer, we agreed (wrong!!). He set off as he didn’t want to rush and I tend to walk extremely fast if we are late.

I rang him up. ‘Why don’t we just go to Queensway Marina to watch them?’ Even nearer. Even more of a wrong decision than Rosia.

We walked down to the marina, and realised our mistake (mine). I’d totally forgotten about all the moles that obscure the view of the boats.

Queensway Marina

Here was a fine boat. As this weekend is all about flying the flag, here is the Red Ensign. The ensigns always confuse me. Apparently the Admiralty thought they were confusing too. More about ensigns, or a least the Red Ensign on wiki.

Red Ensign on ‘Signe’

We set off for Rosia. I started legging it. We could have been down to Ocean Village in half the time.

RN presence at the naval dockyard

My favourite flag, Gib superimposed over the Union Flag, for the tercentenary

Arriving at 5th Battery – just in time – we saw the boats sweeping around the bay.

The head of the flotilla passing Rosia

Although this looks like the railings come out of the sea, it was actually a gun emplacement on the battery. And the hole was large enough to fall through – it was a long way down.

View from 5th Battery

They were aiming to get 100 boats in the flotilla, but I stopped counting after 50. I would have thought 60 would have been the correct goal and any more would have been a bonus. Every time I thought it had finished a few more crept around the bay. And then there were the sailing boats bringing up the rear.

Sailing boats avoiding the huge tanker

Sailing ….without a sail?

Very nice. Toot toot toot they went. All keeping very nicely within the three mile limit of the British Gibraltar Territorial Waters.

In Britain and Gibraltar, we have a super long weekend. Normally we have a late bank holiday on the last Monday in May, commonly known in old speak as Spring Bank. This year, it was moved to the first Monday in June, and today Tuesday 5 June is actually the official Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Holiday.

Interestingly, Liz became Queen in 1952 in February on the death of her father. I think everyone knows the story (or maybe not) about how she was in Kenya at the time en route for a trip down under. That was on the 6th of February. It wasn’t until more than a year later than she was crowned, on 2 June 1953.

So that explains why the coronation is celebrated on 2 June but the anniversary years date back to 1952.

Here in Gib we always celebrate her accession, her birthday, Prince Philip’s birthday, anything else really, with a gun salute because we like to remind the Spanish that we have working guns we like to commemorate our British heritage.

Returning home to view my neighbours’ house decked out with union flags

And last night Gib joined in the beacon thing where some 4000 places around the world lit a beacon for the jubilee. Except I was asleep at 10pm – so no pix of that one.

Post coming up about monarchy on Clouds…

and here we are..

Diamond Jubilee Sunday in Gibraltar

‘Go forth and enjoy.’ Or words to that effect.

The Ministry of Culture in conjunction with the Diamond Jubilee Committee are calling on the general public to support all the events that mark the 60th Anniversary of Her Majesty’s accession to the throne.

Well, there wasn’t much chance of us supporting anything at night-time on Friday and Saturday, but lunchtime is right up our street. Or right down Main Street in this case. So being right-on citizens off, we went for a looky.

Billed as The Big Lunch Street Party, yesterday was fancy dress for children, some performances, and a musical extravaganza for adults.

I’m not sure where the big lunch came into it. There were certainly no free lunches which was something of a shame, as I suddenly realised over the long weekend that I had turned into Mother Hubbard and had an exceedingly bare fridge.

Gibraltar is renowned for celebrating National Day (in September) in style, when it is de rigeur to wear our national colours of red and white.

That makes life pretty easy to celebrate being British this weekend, everyone has red and white clothes, so all we have to do is add a touch of blue. Trouble is, after 14 years of wearing a navy blue school uniform, it is the one colour I don’t possess. Red and white would have to suffice.

Walking out of our front door, the first thing we saw were union flags. On the house at the bottom of the street, and on someone’s T-shirt.

Red, white and blue bunting runs the length of Main Street, and shops not only hung flags (lots of them!), window displays were given the treatment too.

Some people had really made an effort with their outfits.

And get this red white and blue dog. Very chic.

When we arrived at The Piazza (John Mackintosh Square), it was speech time. Solomon Levy, former Mayor of Gibraltar (and our freeholder, although that wasn’t why he was on stage) was blessing the Queen, Gibraltar, the UK, and everything except Spain. Hip Hip – HURRAY! we shouted enthusiastically. OK, I didn’t but Partner did. And we clapped.

Then the current Mayor of Gib, Julio Alcantra gave out prizes to the children who had entered the fancy dress comp. The theme was Africa.

This, explains the mystery of Rhona the Rhino. She’s basically a plastic piggy bank and any donations go to buy barrels of water for Africa at £30 a throw. Well, that’s a relief that we didn’t have a real live rhino charging up and down Main Street. I could argue about the cost of an air flight to collect dear Rhona, and Rhona’s air passage and speculate as to how many barrels of water that might buy, but I won’t cast a £30 damper on the fun.

Sending water barrels to Africa though? It’s a bit like giving people fish instead of teaching them to fish isn’t it? Why not look at better use of the environment? Ooops, I wasn’t going to say anything. Back to the party and no free lunch.

We wandered back up Cannon Lane carefully avoiding the hog roast, (wonder if that was free?) and up to Governor’s Parade where there was a pretty decent band playing.

Given the Mother Hubbard status of my fridge we visited the local Moroccan veg shop. His shop was half empty. Nothing until Wednesday, he said. Oh dear.

We got home and I decided to go for the essentials in life, olives, tomato and cucumber. Back I went to the Roccy shop. The band was still playing, people were still chilling in the sun. It was all very relaxed. Lunch was sandwiches, chips, olives, tomato and cucumber.

In the evening, starving Partner insisted on going out for a pizza. The ‘phone rang. I ignored it. Couldn’t think of anyone who would ring me on a Sunday. He turned up five minutes later. He’d forgotten his glasses and couldn’t read the menu. He’d tried to ring so I could look up the menu on the internet. Why didn’t he just ask for what he wanted at the pizza place?

En route he met our freeholder and they shook hands. He might be in his late 70s but he doesn’t miss a thing. We’d both noticed him looking our way and spotting us at the speechifying. ‘Very patriotic of you,’ he said.

Anyway, the pizza. It was from Mamma Mia, at Red Sands, and seemed expensive to me (most things seem expensive to me), at £12.50 although that did include a Peroni (cheers Vicky!!) while waiting.

Olives, (yes, we do live on olives), chillies, and capers, with minimal cheese at my insistence. It was good though. There was none left for breakfast.

I wonder if we can find a free lunch today? We’re off to see the flotilla which departs from Ocean Village at noon.

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Gibraltar – proud to be British

The bunting has been up for a while, red, white and blue. Normally it is red and white – the Gib colours. But this weekend is a British celebration, and Gibraltar is British.

Flags have been increasing day by day, the union flag, the Gib one, and my favourite, the Gib one superimposed on the union flag. Couldn’t find one when I looked in the local souvenir shops the other day.

Chief Minister Fabian Picardo is in London for the long weekend representing Gib.

Joe Bossano is in Ecuador for a UN conference. The following is from a Chron article:

Government minister Joe Bossano yesterday took delegates at the UN C24 decolonisation seminar in Quito, Ecuador back to 711 to illustrate a common thread in history leading to “independence from Spain”, in Gibraltar case with the arrival of the British in 1704.



And in a dramatic turn to illustrate the way in which politics was conducted in the 16th century, Mr Bossano said that thirty-two years after first becoming part of Spain with Queen Isabella taking it from the Duke of Medina Sidonia Gibraltar had, in 1534, “formed part of the state who sent Pizzaro to massacre the Incas in Quito.”



But he said that sovereignty in Europe today is not what it was in the 16th century, though Spain, he argued, has not understood this.

In 1704 he said “Gibraltar had gained its independence from Spain after 202 years under Spanish sovereignty.



In his address, also pre-recorded on a YouTube clip posted at the GSLP website http://burl.co/117125C, Mr Bossano defended self-determination and said that the UN had to defend the people under colonial rule and not be manipulated by member states in territorial disputes.



Referring to the decolonisation list of which Gibraltar is one of 16 territories Mr Bossano said that the continued existence of the list is the reason for the seminar.

“The meeting is to assist the people to fulfil the charter requirement to exercise self-determination,” he said.



Mr Bossano pointed out that the committee has been studying case of Gibraltar’s decolonisation for 58 years and said he himself had been involved in that campaign for that time.

He also said that privately many agreed that Gibraltar’s case unassailable but Spain had astutely manipulated circumstances.

“The present Spanish Government will no more succeed in its attempts to conquer Gibraltar than any of its predecessors have done in the last 58 years. No matter what alliances it makes with others,” said Mr Bossano.

It is, he said, the freely and democratically expressed wishes of the colonial people that count as far as the UN Charter is concerned.

Spain, said Mr Bossano, had been flagrantly in breach of the Charter for decades and did not want the C24 to know what Gibraltar itself wants.

Mr Bossano urged the C24 members to assist in the achievement of decolonisation and urged them to remember the C24 is the guardian of colonial people. The process, he emphasised to them is one of assisting the people from colonial rule to self-rule.

Go Joe! I love the way he doesn’t mince his words.

Speaking of Spain, I see that Sofia did go to visit Liz. But in a private capacity. What a load of hypocrites.

Anyways, apparently there is a street party today. So best wander out and see what is going on.

I may even get to see Rhona the Rhino, who is apparently being pulled down Main Street to raise funds for Africa.

WTF is a rhino doing in Main Street? She deserves to be in Africa, not part of some crazy stunt.

And on crazies, a customs car was vandalised the other day and customs officers were pelted with stones when they stopped a couple of Spaniards with 81,000 cigarettes.

Workers on JBS are on overtime over this holiday weekend putting up razor wire at the airport to stop people escaping over the frontier with their contraband. No street party for them.