GIBRALTAR 2

Well, despite my best intentions it has been ages since I promised to be a little more regular with the writing. I blame the weather, as I am sure my brain goes into melt down here when the temperature goes over 30 and the humidity over 90%. It becomes too hard to move, and far too hard to think. But it is possible to sit in front of all the fans you can muster and chill out. Most of the busy work has to be over by 10am, so housekeeping (yes, I do do some!) and shopping and laundry are all early morning jobs. But it is now September, and, wonder of wonders, the days are definitely getting a bit cooler – it doesn’t get to 28 or 29 till after lunch and the nights are now about 24 -25 which is becoming a little more sane. Still high humidity though, over 80% today. I will finish the moan by letting you all in on the wonderful life of the disco – it throbs on loudly and headbangingly inanely till 7am Thursday to Monday. Oh woe, can’t shut the hatches, turn the fan up till it’s whirring like a helicopter waiting for lift off, and hope zzzzzs will come. Then stand by for the drunken shouting – so the two of us are wandering around like the two golden oldies you all think we are doing hot drinks and loo runs like Wal and Amy in the olden days. So sad in two such youngsters – sigh.
So we are still here. Why? You might well ask.
We are having a problem getting mail. It is a problem all those living on Gibraltar have, the mail is dire. It can take 2 days for a letter or 4 weeks, for no particular reason, and parcels are worse. We received have received mail posted 3 weeks previous, and this arrived after some posted after the first lot had been sent. So we are now down to the wait for 1 more parcel. This we decided we ought to have as, after lots of talking back and forwards, it came about that we are going to be the proud possessors of a radar. We have tried to keep things as simple as possible and have managed so far without one, but since the technology is now available for boats our size, it seems stupid not to have the benefit for the once or twice in a life time when it can be an essential safety tool. So the platform is all ready for it, all we need is the box. Once the box arrives it is still not simple. What you get is a card in the post telling you to go to the parcel office. So you tramp your way over there and queue up, the parcel is retrieved and then inspected by the man from customs who is based there. It was OK with the books, he was not interested in those, but we had had 3 months of prescriptions for the two of us forwarded, a small trolley load really, and these all had to be tipped out onto the counter and each box inspected and accounted for. By the end of the exercise I think everyone watching was wondering how 2 such old crocks could dare to set foot out of the house, far less take off in a boat. Dave went over the other day with another lot of cards and came back saying he had to go to the customs depot as the parcels had been considered taxable. So it was passport and ship’s papers and off he trudged across the runway to the border, about a mile or so. I thought he had been put in a cell or deported as he did not return for ages, but he had managed to retrieve 2 rather battered parcels. Just as well he had gone, as the run around he had had would have had me causing an international incident. But I have my replacement mini-iron and we have Terry the Tiller number 2. Why it is all so chaotic no one seems to know, except that it no longer comes by air for some reason and it is thought it gets held up in Spain – but then everything here is Spain’s fault, right or wrong! Having got the mini iron it is too hot to use it, but I gaze at it fondly and remember that it is supposed to get cooler sometime.
Apart from waiting for mail, we are still waiting for the sunshade. We had made such good arrangements we thought and the steel work was done as promised, but the canvas work is another matter as the original lass has let us down badly and now decided to pull out. I was frothing at the mouth as we could have been out of here. However, a little silver lining appeared when a young man put his head under the sheet and asked if we wanted some canvas work done. It transpires that we are not the only ones being given the run around, and this lad’s father has worked on the boats here for 20 odd years and the son has been setting up a business in Malaga and this includes a young man who is excellent with cloth and so it goes. The bimini story will soon follow.