One last Catalan bay story.

I was, of course, a bit of a beach god – rippling muscles, golden tanned body – the works! Um, well, not quite.

In reality I was a bit on the thin side – not an ounce of fat on me. Being fair haired and fair skinned meant that the sun and I were not the best of bedfellows. In fact, we had a pretty poor relationship truth be told.

So, a draft to Gibraltar for a year would pose a few sunny problems for me.

Obviously, one of the main attractions for most was the sun and beaches of the Rock. My light skin did pose me difficulties – one look at a hot sun usually meant redness, pain, peeling and quickly back to a bright white finish again.

A strategy was called for. For the first few weeks of hitting the beach I would lie for the most part completely covered in towels, occasionally breaking cover for a swim and a cool beer. I could often be seen with the local seagulls standing on me, seemingly not bothered that the towelled rock was rising and falling with my breathing.

I was able to ditch the towels in favour of copious quantities of sun screen. After a year on the rock, I returned home with a slight, very slight tan. Impressive.

I had just done a 12 hour night duty in the hospital, a quick dash to my flat, a fried breakfast and then off to spend the day dozing on the beach. Never a wise approach whilst on nights…

So, having had a bottle of Rose, half a white, a few Calamaris and fries it was time for a quick doze in the sunshine.

One quick doze later – time for a dip. Another bad idea. Bottle and a half of wine and I'm in for a dip. Of I merrily (literally) paddle. Around the end of the bay, about 50 yards or so out, is a large rock. About 20 feet below the surface is an archway in this rock. Excellent. Down, I go to swim through it. Another bad idea. I go into the arch and promptly rise with my back against the jagged top of the arch – a little bit stuck. As I have mentioned before, one of my strengths is not holding my breathe, I'm bloody hopeless.

Could this be the end of Shiner (my naval nickname) then! Not, bloody likely! I manage to scramble out with a slightly cut up back for my troubles. I get back to the surface and back to the beach. It still remains a mystery to me, to this day, how I managed to get out of that little predicament.

However, a very good lesson learnt there – don't drink and dive!

Extract from A Navy Lark – memoirs of a RN Medic

On a particularly warm, sunny afternoon I was sitting on the sea wall, surveying the scene below, drinking some Rose and munching through some Calamaris (squid) – still the best I have eaten.

I digress. below me was a crowded Catalan bay beach – the locals were out in force. Now these people could seriously picnic. The beach was crowded with tables, chairs, families, all tucking in to impressive looking spreads of food. A great day out.

To my surprise, I saw a fairly significant wave gathering, not quite a Tsunami but impressive nevertheless. The wave swept in from one end of the beach and engulfed the happy campers – sweeping picnics and people before it. It was very funny indeed (nobody was hurt), the wave just decimated every picnic in sight!

I couldn't help but laugh from my perch above the beach – shame on me!

Extracts from A Navy Lark – memoirs of a RN Medic

We had a weeks leave due, so we took of to hitch hike around Spain for a bit – armed with sleeping bags and a few squids!

We took the ferry across to Algeciras and thought we'd kip on the quayside for the night. A couple of armed Gendarmes turned up and persuaded us that this was not a good idea – onwards then!

If my memory serves we followed a route that took us via Cadiz and back again. During this time we managed to drink copious quantities of Sangria and slept in a variety of peculiar places under the stars.

I remember a bar in some small village where we drank Sangria out of pint glasses, having not been impressed with the jugs with glasses as was tradition. As we got progressively drunker I am sure a couple senoritas were taking a positive interest in us. To drunk and language challenged to respond, we made our way back to where we had decided to kip for the night. We crawled into our sleeping bags in the pitch black site of our choosing.

A particularly uncomfortable night was brought to an abrupt end in the morning with some foul smelling vegetables landing on us, having been lobbed over a fence from the camp site on the other side. My discomfort was due to having pitched my sleeping bag onto a mess of animal bones lying in the rubbish tip we had been sleeping in!

We also managed to sleep in a large pipe of some sort or other and under a hedge, I think, in Cadiz city centre. Now that's what I call roughing it!

Extract from A Navy Lark – memoirs of a RN Medic

A few dits about the days in Gib when the good ideas club shutdown the Hospital to see if we could set up an MDHU at St Bernards.

In the late nineties we (MA and Nurses) at RNH Gibraltar had been carrying out some resus training in the Casualty of B block. It was decided between the 3 of us ( an irish nurse now a Sir , a big bearded POMA ? and MAQ with a famous Aunty) to see if we could get a little reaction from some members of the locally raised militia (Gib regiment), by placing the resus dummy in a body bag with the zip half open and carry it past them dropping it half way with the arm falling out.  This had the required affect and cleared the waiting room with much "ai carumba!".

Using the ceremonial shovel to bury a Hospital Cat and quickly wiping the mud off it before a formal VIP visit.

Driving down to Europa point in the ambulance after taking someone to St Bernards in the small hours.  As we approached we could see the little vans as the smugglers collected their gains, I thought it would be amusing to hit the blue light much to the  surprise of the smugglers who froze for a second then scattered. The driver (local) nearly had a heart attack as his cousins were out that night (surprising in GIb!) with him swearing away and the MA in the back rolling around the floor laughing.

Collecting a little old lady from the top floor of the flats in the Laguna (probably why the Police asked us to do the job).  Carrying her down stairs to be met by the excitable family and onlookers. A bit of a melee ensued before we could get her into the ambulance and drive off with what I think are two relatives sat next to her. She cannot speak much English so,  I ask the relatives to translate.  They both look at me blankly, and tell they don't speak English either and she is not related; they were neighbours interested in what was going on!  At St Bernards all the family have arrived and we cannot get the ambulance near to the door, so this little old lady is  passed over the cars in a cross between the chuckle brothers and a catholic parade of the Madonna. Lots of learning from that one!

1 Mar 07

A Baby Friendly Award has been presented to midwifes at The Royal Naval Hospital (RNH), Gibraltar, making it the first military hospital to win international recognition from UNICEF (United Nations Children's Fund).

The Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Families Association Forces Help (SSAFA FH) midwifery team, based at the hospital, were supported by the hospital commander to join forces with UNICEF UK's Baby Friendly Initiative. They aimed to increase breastfeeding rates and improve care for mothers at the Royal Naval Hospital.

The Award was presented by His Excellency the Governor of Gibraltar, Lieutenant General Sir Robert Fulton KBE and the event was attended by the midwives, SSAFA FH staff, members of the Command and some of the families who took part in the initiative.

The Baby Friendly Initiative, set up by UNICEF and the World Health Organisation, is a global programme, which provides a practical and effective way for health services to improve the care provided for all mothers and babies and provide support to enable successful breastfeeding.

The Award is given to health facilities after an intensive assessment by a UNICEF team has shown that recognised best practice standards are in place. The assessment involved one to one interviews with all midwives, the hospital paediatrician, and pregnant or newly delivered women.

The Baby Friendly Initiative Programme Director, Andrew Radford said:

"We are delighted that the Royal Naval Hospital has achieved full Baby Friendly status. Surveys show us that most mothers want to breastfeed but don't always get the support they need. Mothers at the Royal Naval Hospital, Gibraltar can be confident that their midwives/health visitor will provide the highest standard of care."

Article and picture published with kind permission from:  www.mod.uk/DefenceInternet/DefenceNews/

To warm me up psychologically I often drift back to my time on The Rock in the mid-eighties. I don't know a single member of the medical branch who doesn't put their time spent at sea at the top of their "great times I had in the Andrew" list and I'm no different in that respect. However, my time in Gib, despite some…er…run ins with the authorities, runs this a close second.

It was a magical time where it felt as though the right bunch of people had come together in the right place and time to almost guarantee maximum fun. Even work was fun most of the time – not something I can say hand on heart about RNH Guzz once I'd started to climbing the greasy pole.

I have a photo of the flagstaff on the edge of the tennis courts at RNH Gib, taken at sunset. Swallows (or was it swifts?) dart around and the coast of North Africa lies tantalisingly near, clinging on to the horizon. I can still feel the warm evening breeze, so welcome at the end of a hot summer's day of working afternoon shift on Families Ward and the enormous feeling of wellbeing it induced. I felt like one of the luckiest people alive – everything was very laissez faire then, despite being on a military fortress, in those pre- 9/11, pre- Gulf War days. We were where it was at – and we knew it.

After sunset it would be time for some assorted kitchen scraps in Rooke Barracks, a flick at the Queen's, a barbie (there was always a barbie somewhere), pichitos in Jim's Den or a pint; maybe in the mess or The Matchbox or The Wembley Bar, The Coach & Horses, The Angry Friar, The Hole In The Wall, The Bull & Bush, The Captain's Table or any other of the multitude of little bars clinging to that tiny, cosy rock at the edge of Europe and Empire.

They haven't got the Yorkshire Dales its true, but what do have, and will always have, is a little piece of my heart.

So here I am, fresh faced MA, escaped from Haslar via Sultan. Dan Dare Airlines delivers me and Michelle Rust to our home for the next year. Having just left Sultan filled full of stories thanks to Sam Parker and various 'old' sickbaymen
 
Its was hot that summer in the UK but even hotter as we disembarked, first thing I notice they have to stop the traffic so the planes can land and if you don't stop you are in the sea, picked up and off to RNH Gib, drop off it, the mess is above the bar and you have to go through the bar, the peniquie club to get to the mess danagerous Meet Jock Balloach, Les Davies, Dusty Miller and not forgetting Graham Buddle plus a few others.
 
Taken to see Mac Sargent the regulating POMA, words of  wisdom, be back for 9PM, don't get drunk or into trouble, ok PO. Get myself sorted 7PM in the bar, beer 11p, vodka 5p a tot coke 12p a can ( I drank vodka and coke way back then), brandy depending on how you like yr paint stripper 5p, 7p and 11p. Meet the most important person there Jack the barman, its down hill from there.
 
The next thing I know its 10.30pm and we are off down town (Clubbing for the yoof of today), great I can't feel my legs and I am having an out of body experience,
into the beer keiler and the challenge of a large stein just to get a plastic badge, failed miserably I think, then its a night club under English steps to dance the night away, Royal Naval School of Dancing qualified includes the Nato 2 step and mateloe shuffle
 
Next thing I remember I was in bed, make it to the regulating office by 0900, athough not well, informed I would be working days there until I went to the male ward in a few weeks. 
 
So a few weeks later a package arrives its a series of pictures of me dancing with some morracan chap with a rather splendid moustache and the best of buddies. So started my year in Gib and a of spendid adventures with Happy Day, John Gregg, Titch Coltan, Graham Buddle, Topsy Turner, Harry Gray, Dusty Miller, Les Davies, Tug Wilson, Naval Nurses Michelle Rust, Val Haslet, Sue ?, Trish O'neill and Denny Prior who some 32 years later I still carry a rather large torch for.
 
A great year it was never quite the same when I went back on various ships and the border opened 

The Captain of the Hospital then was Captain Binns. A few months later I voluntered for the Submarine Service.

My other claim to fame was being sent on board HMS Shavington from Gibraltar to Faro in Portugal to give medical cover to a bunch of Sea Cadets.

While I was in Portugal I rescued two Sailors from the local Police Station on the way back from shore. they were grateful but not so much as they might be as it cost them their TOT for the rest of the trip.

I now have the pleasure of being the Chaplain to the Sea Cadet Corps in the Falkland Islands.

Small world isn't it. I met my wife in Gibraltar. God Bless You All.

Fr Peter Norris SFO
Parish Priest St Mary's Stanley.