where art collides philosoperontap

Farewell to Checkpoint Charlie. Flung the curtains of my room open early this morning to find a blanket of snow once more covering the ground. My time in Berlin has been characterised by cold February rain with the pavements still covered in rock salt scattered there only a few days earlier when they were skating in parks and skiing on the old templehof airfield. The return of snow seems fitting.

My time in Berlin has been both productive and enjoyable. I can’t tell you the real purpose of my visit, lets just call it meetings, with the cover story of visiting son John to celebrate his  birthday, but it has been worthwhile and included seeing people in smoky jazz bars, a trip to the Russian military command post under the pretence of seeing where the Germans signed the surrender document at the end of ww2 and a beer in Cafe des Westens. The finale was the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra gig last night with Lang Lang on keys where we drank champagne purchased with western issue Euros. Escaping observation, we were one of the first out of the building into the terrible stormy night and immediately got lucky with a taxi that whisked me back to the comfort and security of the hotel bar.

At breakfast a bright orange refuse truck did its rounds with a guy in orange hi viz vest and shorts walking alongside feeding it binfuls of trash. I also observed a guy in shorts and flip-flops helping himself at the breakfast buffet. He clearly hadn’t looked out the window before deciding what to wear this morning.

My driver picked me up on time. We exchanged passwords. Anas, I uttered. Trefor he replied. I’m now in an uber headed for the new airport and a flight that will take me back to London and the circus of the six nations. The drive to the airport was uneventful. I didn’t really care if we were being followed by then as I had already done what I came to do and was now just heading home.

Then came the schoolboy error. Security was a breeze. I avoided check in because I only had hand carry. Fast track worked and I was soon through the schengen area walking briskly through C gates looking for the lounge. No signs whatsoever. Gemini told me that the lounge was before schengen security. Doh. The gate, C15 was one of the furthest away. I am now sat trying to look inconspicuous in plain view near the desk at C15. There are 12 others that I can see at the gate. I am far too early.

I am expecting the flight to be a quiet one. A ten twenty five take off to LCY means a cup of tea, my book and an earful of relaxing sounds.

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Western Europe is covered in cloud. The bright sunlit uplands at 30,000 feet don’t represent the lives of people with their feet firmly on the ground.

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1st officer Gilbert Tyrer pulled rank on me in the queue for the up front loo. I politely deferred to him. Back in my seat my right lense fell out of my specs. Nightmare. Found it underneath the seat in front. Since I got my new lenses I found that there was something not quite right in my Oakley specs. Unfortunately Oakley don’t make them any more and I will have to resort to buying a second hand pair off tinterweb. Will be much cheaper than a complete new frame and lenses. I have had the old Oakleys for yonks so they’ve paid for themselves. However wouldn’t have bought new lenses for them had I known the trouble they would give.

Our approach to LCY took us round the shard and over tower bridge and were slightly late landing due to the de icing delay. This delay was exacerbated by the fact that a passenger needed paramedic help and we all had to stay in our seats whilst he was attended to. Fair enough. The upshot was I missed my train. Fortunately I was able to repurpose that ticket whilst I was sat on platform 2 at Stratford International and before the original train had departed. My alternative was to catch the 13.03 to Newark and Uber it home from there. Wouldn’t make that much difference in the time taken to get home as it happens. 13.03 looked a little tight so I bought a flexible ticket but in the end made it in a somewhat breathless condition with 30 seconds to spare. Whew. Nailbiter. It’s not about the money. It’s about getting back in plenty of time to settle in for the six nations.

Berlin is just as dull and damp as Lincoln. Where I am sat at breakfast I can see an ad for a Berlin Phil gig in March. Dvořák Symphony Number 9. Oo. Prompted me to look and see if owt is on this week. To cut a long story short we are off to see Lang Lang play with the Berlin Philharmonic tomorrow night. You have to grab these opportunities when they are presented. All because I was sat in the window at breakfast. Advertising does work.

This trip is notable for being totally joint pain free. I particularly notice it when I am walking along in a stream of people in an airport. In the past most of them would have overtaken me but now I’m walking like a “normal” person.

When I got home from the rugby club last night I ordered a takeaway chinese curry. Went to the shed whilst waiting for it only to fall asleep and wake up 20 mins after it had been delivered. Fortunately it had been left in the porch and was still warm so didn’t need to stick it in the microwave or owt. Can’t have been too long after that when I hit the hay.

Another soggy morning in Lincoln town. Dropped THG off at the stayshun to head for Liverpeul and I have a car arriving at ten fifty to start my journey to Berlin. The capital city of Germany is quite a bit colder than Lincoln so have warm gear on. Picture snow on the ground, the cold war is in full sway and the flight to Berlin a real adventure. I’ll jump in a cab on arrival and head for the Doubletree Kudamm. The snow geese have arrived early this winter. No hold baggage.

Slightly fuzzy disposition this morning after yesterday’s rugby. Don’t want to talk about it. I realise it was me wot brought the subject up. Will be walking to pick up the car a little later. Could have walked there yesterday but had a few bags to take so THG suggested I drive round. She always makes a lorra sense does THG. Gets me a bit of exercise an all.

Otherwise a relaxing day ahead observing the sabbath. Oo look it’s the sabbath. Yes, so I see. Shall we observe it? Why the devil not! Pun intended. I may stick some paper down on my coffee table top project. Have decided to apply a base layer of miscellaneous coverings – maps n stuff. I also have a scorecard from a test match at trent bridge. Oh and a card from the Deauville-La Toques race meeting we went to a couple of years ago. Good times. It’s a big sheet rather than a card, showing lots of different racing colours.

Made a very interesting discovery yesterday. I was transcribing the will of John Jones, my 7 great grandfather. I had decided it was going to be a lot easier to interpret if it was in Arial 11 font rather than the original scribble. John Jones died in 1731 but his will was made in 1723 when his death seemed imminent. Fortunately the lad recovered and lived another eight years. There was no mention of his wife so I’m thinking she predeceased him. In 1722/23 there was a severe smallpox epidemic in Carmarthenshire so that may well have done for her but he made it through.

Anyway the interesting bit was the fact that he left a bushel of pilcorn (oats) to the poor of the parish of Llanlloney and another to the congregation of Pencader. Three trusted friends were given guardianship of his son David. They were James Lewis of Llanllawddog, David Johnes of Penkarreg and David Thomas of Llanlloney. I have the wills of the first two. They were both ministers of religion, the former in Pencarreg and Pantycreuddyn, two of the early Independent (Congregationalist) churches in Wales. Dave also mentioned these two places together with Rhydybont, a nearby baptist church, specifically in the context of them being protestant dissenting churches.

So that tells me that my ancestor was a religious dissenter at a time when this was still very much in its infancy. Quite a few families from the area left for the Americas, a hazardous trip not to be undertaken lightly especially if you were a child. The odds were not good for children under the age of six to survive the journey. John Jones’ son David also left a bushel of pilcorn to the congregation of Pencader so he must have quite naturally continued with the dissent. After the Toleration Act of 1688 private homes could be licensed to hold religious meetings and such gatherings are documented at our farm, Maesnonni, in the 1740s. 

I’d better stop there as I can go on for hours on this subject. The time has come to break the fast.

Wahey, made it. Through the night. Surely a cause to celebrate. We need causes to celebrate in our otherwise humdrum lives. Mind you if we celebrated every time we made it through the night life would be a non stop celebration. Until it stopped, at which time we would stop celebrating.

Tuned in briefly to the opening ceremony of the winter olympics last night. Caught some bloke making a speech. A v boring speech. So I instantly switched off. Hopefully the luge will provide more entertainment. And the downhill skiing and the curling. And the bobsleigh. I lost interest in the figure skating after the heyday of Torvil and Dean.

Before that THG and I binged watched the programme about two ozzie guys renovating a hotel in Ulva. Went there with our Joe when he and I went camping on Tim’s estate on Mull. Would go and stay at the hotel if we could get in. When it eventually opens. I’d imagine there will be massive demand. Unless they get their pricing “right”. Anyway, back to the everyday mundanity of our aforementioned humdrum lives.

Was, as is usual, prompted to get up by Thought For the Day coming on the wireless. I wonder if the Beeb knows that the main response to that bit of the Today programme is to get out of bed and stop listening. Its main use is as an alarm clock. Funny how I manage to tune out most of the Today programme because it largely provides bad news but I notice when thought for the day comes on and deploy the ultimate filter of switching it off.

Down in the kitch the wireless was on but now that THG has left to get ready for the park run I’ve switched it off again. They were talking about some crooked politician. Quel surprise. I’m sure they aren’t all crooked but there seems to be a bit of a recurring theme here.

More interesting, I think, is that this morning’s breakfast sausage is being cooked on a lowish heat. Can’t be too low as I will want to eat breakfast within the window considered normal for such an activity and before it morphs into brunch. Not sure there is a specific time identified for this. The “culinary threshold”. A brunchtime debate? I was trying to see how I could slip the phrase nosh notification in there but couldn’t quite get it to fit. There is almost certainly an entry in Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy on this in the chapter on the Earth. The revised edition obvs. It must surely be a continuous work in progress.

Today is a no shave day. Ever since my rugby playing days I never shave on a match day. Mind you I have quite a few no shave days as when I go swimming I don’t bother. Bit of a faff shaving at the gym. It’s England v the mighty Wales at Twickenham plus the imps v Prymuf away. As an aside I was chatting to the owner of the photo shop in Gibraltar last week and she mentioned their local Lincoln Red Imps football team. They had had their game postponed the previous night due to inclement weather conditions (ie a tornado/hurricane). Anyway I know that Wales are not exactly favourites for this game but I figured I might nip down the betting shop and stick a tenner on them to win. I heard 27 to 1 odds somewhere. Worth a punt. It’s usually just once a year on Grand National day that you see me there. Us Welsh always travel hopefully. Cut me open and I bleed red.

Our visit to Gibraltar has prompted me to re read “Defending the Rock – Gibraltar and the Second World War”. I can now identify with the places mentioned in the book, especially the tunnels where my dad worked during his National Service. Funny to think of him there as an 18 or 19 year old kid. 

Gotta go. Busy morning ahead. A chicken to joint, stuffing to make for tomorrow’s pork belly dinner and, as you already know, a walk to the bookies to place a bet.

Looks like rain. I remember discussing the weather in my French o’level oral. The examiner asked why are the British always talking about the weather. I wasn’t sure but she suggested it was because it’s always changing. There ya go. 

This is quite random innit. It might well be the first time I’ve thought about that French o’level exam in 48 years. And I remembered what we talked about!!! Blimey. Now that we’re on this train of thought I also remember getting lost on the beach at Fairbourne when I was about 4 years old. V traumatic it was and quite possibly my earliest memory. One of them anyway. Can’t remember any others right now but I daresay it’ll come to me.

The gap between the ages of 4 and 16 seems huge. Almost huger than that between 16 and 64 somehow. Maybe not.

I say it looks like rain but I am entirely dependent on the metoffice app for this observation as I’ve not yet looked out of the window. Could look on the cctv I guess or the ring doorbell. Just checked both and whilst it clearly has been raining it doesn’t look as if it is right now. At this exact moment. I can well believe that more rain is on the way though. Should be OK if you wear the right attire. Raincoat. An umbrella might help. As long as it’s not too windy.

I would also suggest to you that today will not be a good drying day so if you were thinking of hanging out the washing id be inclined to put it on the clothes airer in the utility room. If you have neither then as a last resort use the tumble dryer but that would be expensive. Have you seen the cost of electricity? I wouldn’t bother with the radiators as you’d fill the whole house with humidity/steam. A radiator is fine if you just want to finish something off that isn’t quite bone dry.

Better go. I’ve just noticed that the radio has timed out and switched itself off. Time to break the fast.

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Update. Having got out of bed I can confirm that it is raining. There is water coming out of the drainpipe from the guttering and running across the kitchen roof.

Just seen a bloke walking past the house under an umbrella. This feels like a final confirmation that it is indeed raining.

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Btw I’m very pleased to tell you that Mark the joiner has done a v good job on the floorboards upstairs. He was quite critical of the work done by whoever last had them up. Electrician or plumber. Might well have been before our time as the central heating was already in when we moved here way back in the nineties. Bloody cowboys. We have replaced the radiators in that time but that would not have involved lifting the floorboards. Also Joe the carpet fitter came back at the end of the day and relaid the carpet. Job done. 

Mark does have to come back and sort out a rotten skirting board in the passage leading to the east wing. He ran out of time yesterday and in any case needs to find a matching piece of skirting. Recons the seal around the bath must have leaked water at some stage which surprises me not. Our bathroom, which is a reasonable size as bathrooms go, used to be even bigger but surrendered some space to facilitate creation of the passage when we built the extension. A long long time ago now.

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This morning the world is my oyster. I have a 10am call but thereafter nothing whatsoever in the calendar. I may be called upon to pick THG up from town and deposit her at a Friday afternoon craft workshop she attends but other than that, nowt, zilch. The problem now is what to do. My top idea is to make a start on the coffee table top. Apply the PVA primer. This has been in the pipeline for some time and since Rob dropped off the can of varnish spray there really is no reason why I shouldn’t crack on with it.

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It continues to rain, as it did all day yesterday but without the wind. Last night standing outside the shed reminded me of being in North Wales. Wind and rain.

Bit of upheaval in the Davies residence today. Carpet fitter Joe coming at nine thirty to take up the landing carpet and then stick lino down in the utility room. At ten thirty Mark the joiner is coming to fix some loose floorboards on the landing. Then carpet fitter Joe is coming back towards the middle of the afternoon to stick the landing carpet back. All totes coordinated, ish. My nine am call, for which I got meself ready (sss) well in time has been pushed back til nine thirty. There ya go.

Today, as I’m sure everyone will be aware, is the opening game of the six nations. Us Irish are playing France who are the tourney faves. Huh, what do they know? It is unusual to start the six nations on a Thursday, especially as late as ten past nine CET but it is apaz to avoid clashing with the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics. They presumably wanted to avoid the embarrassment of really low viewing figures for the opening ceremony due to everyone watching the rugby. Understood. Dunno why they start sporting fixtures that late nowadays. It isn’t as if they are waiting for the heat of the day to die down.

When I were a kid we used to watch a lot of downhill skiing. In the days where there were only three tv channels to choose from and bugger all else to do, Ski Sunday was one of the highlights. I will watch the skiing in the winter olympics for old times sake. Wonder if Eddy the Eagle is still on the go.

It is v windy out there this morning. A cold easterly. Twill blow no good. Best to stay warm and snug in the shed or your own equivalent place of refuge. Your safe place. We have a small palm tree in a pot on the stony bit of garden to the right of the shed that has blown down again. It always does. Needs a more stable pot really. I often wonder whether it is even a real plant but THG assures me it is. She is the one who knows these things.

Had a guy called Graham around yesterday to look at putting solar panels on our roof which faces south/southeast so should be good for it. However because it isn’t universally flat plain roof, we have a sticking out bit, we couldn’t fit nearly as many panels as I thought possible. You have to start 40cm away from the edge so whereas we might get sixteen panels on if it was just a simple roof we can only get six. Sixteen is the right number for our own needs apaz. Gonna wait to see what he says anyway. He is the expert. I guess the long term issue is that you can’t trust the energy market to stay sensible so the less we have to rely on it the better. Feels counter intuitive looking at this in the depths of winter when light levels are at their lowest but the work wouldn’t be done until later in the year anyway.

The shed is very brightly lit and is a marked contrast to the cold February dullness of the back garden. I’ve just noticed that the lawn is almost totally clear of leaves which was not the case last year as we left it too late to rake them up. This year either we did a good job or, which I suspect is the case, the worms have done it for us. The lawn is badly in need of sorting which I may do this year. Needs scarifying and vertidraining. Trouble is the tools you can buy at a sensible price are rubbish and there is no point in investing in pro grade kit as it would only get used once a year, plus we would need to store it.

Gotta go. It is nearly nine thirty.

Gotta return the hire car today. I needed it yesterday because THG’s mobile was at the menders. I was quite pleased with myself. When I picked it up the dash showed there were 76 miles left in the tank. I was doing an 80 mile round trip to the Park Hospital and wanted to leave the same amount of fuel in the car as when I picked it up.

At the garage on Doddington Road I put pretty much exactly 9 litres of E10 unleaded and by the time I got home there was perhaps 80 miles left and something. This morning I was going to pop to Waitrose and then take the car back. Perfecto.

Then last night I found out that I was in demand to take THG to the garage mending her vehicle to pick up a courtesy car. 16 mile round trip. Aaah. The best laid plans… No matter. Not a biggie. It’s just that I thought there was a certain elegance in returning the car with exactly the same amount of petrol. Artistry.

Last night nipped to the Club Sporting de Lincoln (RFC) with @Adie on a bit of a mission. Firstly to pick up the rugby jersey I had ordered. They had a batch made of the original white jerseys with red collars. A pretty classy strip. It’s only problem was keeping it clean which I guess is whey one day they changed to a nondescript red and green with a bit of blue thrown in (I think). Anyway I now have the shirt and will find an occasion to wear it.

The other purpose of the visit was to take back some old press clippings from the early days of the club. Steward Sid had given me them when I was the Press Officer and I came across them during a recent clearout of the filing cabinet. A veritable treasure trove.

It was training night and I was surprised at how many people were there – men and women. Was good fair play. Not that we ventured out to watch the training it was about 2 degrees Celcius. Rather them than me. I guess they all glowed healthily once showered and back in the warmth of the clubhouse. Will be returning on 28th Feb to watch Lincoln v Mellish. Pre-match lunch. Wots not to like. See you there maybs.

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Correction. The kit wot replaced the white with red collar was red, wite and green hoops.

Dull out there. Cars have their lights on. It’s one of those miserable February days that people take Caribbean holidays to avoid. Or the Maldives. Somewhere nearer the equator. Yanow. Perhaps we should look at such a trip next year. Problem is the weather would still be shite here when we got back and the contrast would make it feel even worse. And I’d be jet lagged.

Cars stopping outside our house. Mummies and daddies dropping their little darlings off for to get an educayshun. I don’t see them unless I rotate my neck but I hear the occasional door slam. That’s the issue with where I sit in the snug, facing inwards. If I sit in the conservatory, which really is a spring and summer only job, I face the back garden. I prefer the conservatory.

One of the highlights at this time of year is the start of the Six Nations rugby. Well in recent years the highlight has been tempered by the performance of the Welsh side on the pitch but things will get better. I know they will. I’m sure they will. My preference these days is to watch from the comfort of the sofa in the company of like minded individuals, ie our camping mates. Seriously boozy afternoons but that is no different to how it would be were we to go to the actual game and we will be home in time for an early night. I don’t mind going to Cardiff as the stadium is pretty accessible but Twickenham is a bit of a trek. Plus the cost. You don’t get much if any change out of a grand once match tickets, train, hotel, food and drinks are accounted for. Living ain’t cheap these days.

No fox news, mainly because I haven’t looked but I still need to document the visitations whilst we were away. Not heard from Brian the fishing gnome in a while either. I guess he will get in touch when he is ready, or when he needs something. I daresay Barbados is party central right now.

Thinking of having a simple breakfast this morning. A sausage, couple of bits of bacon, a bean or three and some toast. No idea if we has beens which might scupper the plan. V shall c.

Might also light the fire today. This may depend on the availability of suitable sized wood. We have plenty of kindling and tons of logs but the logs need splitting and I’ve left it too late for an axe to be any use. One day I’ll invest in a hydraulic log splitter. These things can’t be rushed. They need planning. I suspect the right one for the job will cost more than it is worth spending on this. Trouble is you don’t seem to be able to hire them. We must have 4 or 5 tons of logs. 3 at least.

The upbeat weather forecast this morning told us we are a mere month away from the start of meteorological spring. This was the only upbeat aspect of the forecast. The rest of it supported the aforementioned notion of lighting the fire. So we have to hold on for another month. Spring is definitely the best time of year. THG pointed out to me yesterday that I need to get on with building her raised beds which she will need in place ready for spring. This is a v valid point and something that will stimulate me into action. Ish. I work better when I have a deadline.

Sunday Service is from Wrexham. So far it isn’t too bad. First hymn is love divine and love excelling. It doesn’t meet my definition of the absolute perfect church service but at least it isn’t happy clappy. So far anyway. I really don’t understand the chanting by rote bit. This church has good bells which has to be a result innit. Ten bells with a 25 hundredweight tenor. I don’t know my bells but that feels right.

The news downstairs is that there is one remaining tin of beans and therefore the breakfast plan is a goodun. The cooked breakfast in The Rock Hotel in Gibraltar wasn’t too bad as far as hotel breakfasts go. However when considered in the context of having eaten out every night for a week meaning that we were never hungry in the mornings, breakfast was to some extent consumed only because we had already paid for it. It’s one of those dilemmas. The answer is to not go out to eat every night but hey…

Met Commodore Jamie Miller CBE last night in the hotel bar. He was with a group of military types from the Royal Gibraltar Regiment who were very smartly dressed in mess uniform – bright red jackets, dark trousers with a wide red stripe running down the side and spurs. You are probably aware that you only get to wear spurs if you are of field rank or above. I wasn’t but I asked. The Commodore wasn’t left alone long enough by the junior officers who had probably been dispatched to escort him to an association dinner – they were drinking soft drinks. I looked him up and boy did CM have a distinguished service career. He was a survivor from the sinking of HMS Coventry during the Falklands war.

This morning we take our leave of Gibraltar on the only sunny day there has been for our entire week on the Iberian peninsula. Apparently it isn’t going to last long as another week of rain lies ahead. My suitcase is 10kg heavier going home than it was coming out. Funny description of a bag, suitcase. I doubt they carry many suits these days. I suppose in the days when suits were normal attire people would travel with a number of them. I own two suits: the one I bought for Hannah & George’s wedding and my dinner suit. The latter gets worn perhaps once every three or four years nowadays. Every couple of years maybs. Usually rugby club dos.

I am pleased to tell you that my umbrella made it through security without a hitch but my body didn’t. My titanium hips set off the metal detector. It was quite interesting to hear the sound of metal being detected as the security guy subsequently ran the hand held scanner over my body.Should be boarding soon so I think I’m gonna sign off for now. Ciao amigos.

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Home sweet home and the heating is switched on. Will take a while for the hoose to warm up especially as we need a new heat exchanger for the boiler. Feels a bit surreal being back in Lincoln when only this morning we were 1,500 miles or so away in Gibraltar. 

I’m unpacked and have consumed a sausage sandwich. Got the driver to stop off at the Coop on Newport to pick up the necessary supplies. Looking forward to getting back to normal eating habits.

Picked up a few fox vids off the lake cam which I’ll need to review and record – a job for tomorrow.

Two people talking loudly about people at breakfast. In their defence it may have been that the table they occupied, in the corner, may have naturally amplified their voices but I don’t feel like giving them the benefit of the doubt especially as one of them gave her 3 year old granddaughter her mobile to go away and play with.

Our last full day in Gib, and indeed on continental Yoorp and really we are ready to go home. Too much eating man. This morning, at least, the weather is ok and we have the rock tour and the tunnels to look forward to. I have also opened the balcony door for the first time. Wow Gibraltar is a noisy place. 

Gibraltar is also very small. Only takes half an hour to walk the length of it. Even for a slow walker like me. The walking has been somewhat revelatory. Before hiphops 1 & 2 I would not have been able to do it. Now I’m planning trips away specifically to be able to go walking. My posh walking boots haven’t been out of the cupboard for yonks.

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The Rock Taxi Tour turned out to be great. Took a while to get going though. Our instructions were that there were three pickup points: 1 at the entrance of the currently closed cable car terminal, 2 next to the Trafalgar Cemetery or 3 in the middle of Main Street just past the Governer’s Building (or simlar). 1 and 2 were near our hotel so we strolled to 1 through the v pleasant botanic garden. Bugger all in the way of a taxi tour spot there. Okaaay we moved on to the Trafalgar Cemetery. There was a taxi rank but no taxis. I called the company. They suggested we go  to point 1 but I told them we’d already done that so we ended up walking to the furthest away point 3 Hey…

Point 3 was Taxi Tour central so we signed up for the next to go. Now we had to wait for two more to come as the driver didn’t want to leave without his full complement of 8 passengers. This was a 20 min wait. In the end, and just as we were about to leave, a couple of German guys turned up. One of them was wheelchair bound. Turned out he and his “carer” got free access to the Rock and only had to pay the taxi bit which was £20. The rock access was £30.

Tell you what it was all worth the effort. A brilliant visit. We saw St Michael’s Cave with loads of v impressive stalactites and stalagmites, the pillars of Hercules (look em up), a great high up viewing point with lots of apes playing to the tourists and the driver finally dropped us off at the WW2 tunnels. My dad had worked in these tunnels in 1953 when doing his National Service. Operation Mariner. The views were great and we could see Africa. Was a bit like Victoria Heights in Hong Kong.

The guy in the wheel chair didn’t really get to see much as he had to stay in the van the whole time.

After the tunnel visit we abseiled (well it almost felt like it) back into town and found a sandwich bar called the fork & cork for a spot of lunch at which point the sun at last came out! A quick nip in to M&S for a pair of cords in the sale (6 pounds bloody 50!) and we hiked back to The Rock Hotel to recover.

Chillin out in the room. THG & Hannah have gone for afternoon tea but afternoon tea, just ain’t for me. Having discovered that the tourist attractions worth seeing were closed due to the inclement weather George and I made up for it with a rare bit of retail therapy. I stood in the front porch of a leather shop, for a momentary respite from the rain as much as anything, and was tempted in by a sign saying SALE 50% OFF. They had some nice leather jackets there, very similar to the one the guy in Ronda wanted 300+ Euros for but at £400 reduced to £200. Didn’t do it for me but I did look at a number of them. The shop owner then knocked the price down to £170, just for me, and when I didn’t bite he further reduced it to £140. His last gasp offer “because I was the only business he would have had today” was £100 so we did a deal and I walked away with a very nice suede lambs leather jacket. At that price it was too good to turn down. Everything comes to he who waits. Might wear it tonight when we head to “Charlie’s” for dinner.

It is defo taxi weather still even though everywhere is walkable in Gib. Don’t want to rock up at Charlie’s in a damp condition. We are getting to the “end of trip state of mind” where actually if a flight was offered tomorrow we would probs take it. However we still have the rock and the tunnels to see which should be a high point. My dad served in the RAF as a radio operator inside the rock in 1953 when he did his National Service.

Although most attractions in Gibraltar were shut you really do get the impression of the place as a military stronghold over the centuries. Bastions, batteries and forts everywhere. Even the naval base has a protective  boom across the entrance. It does feel strange though, a short walk as it is from very Spanish Spain.

Had a nice chat with the woman in the photograph shop. I’d nipped in on the off chance they might have some old RAF shots from the time my dad was here. They didn’t but I did walk away with pics of John Jennon and Yoko Ono together with their Gibraltar Marriage Cert. There’ll be room for that in the shed. Anyway the woman in the shop was a Gibraltarian born and bred and knowing that I came from Lincoln mentioned their own Lincoln RedImps team based in Gib. Their match last night was postponed due to the weather. She said Gibraltar’s proudest moment was when their national side beat Celtic 1 – 0. Will have been some time ago but still very fresh in the national memory. 

Shame our trip coincided with unusually bad weather but it is what it is. We are taking a taxi tour around the top of the rock tomorrow morning to cram in all the main sights and finally see the tunnels.

Thassit. The sun is going over the yardarm and I am in the Rock Hotel. Ciao amigos.