Terry and Pat’s travels and more

  The Rock ‘n Roll era, the proper gritty, earthy, authentic Rock and Roll era started in the early 50’s and lasted until the early 60’s when a softer type of pop music took over and then was blasted out of existence by The Beatles and the Liverpool sound in general. Those early classics were not heard by the population at large at the time because it was not played on the BBC and was only heard on Radio Luxemburg or in the popular dance halls of the day. I listened to much of the music of that era on a crystal set when in bed but reception was, at best, inconsistent with the sound fading on a regular basis. Due to the advent of the ‘pirate’ radio stations, that early rock ‘n roll music was reintroduced to the masses and is why it still endures today and will endure long after  the music, now called rock ‘n roll, will have largely been forgotten. I have listed below what I believe was the best Rock ‘n Roll ever, some you will no doubt have heard before but some that may be new...

  It has been noted that I have neglected my blog since my escape from the Hotel Salobrena. This is due entirely to the problems of returning home after two weeks away but don’t misconstrue that into thinking I am not happy to be home, it’s what needs to be done to get things back to normal that’s the problem. Over the years, and many holidays, Pat and I have evolved  a ‘return home’ system that works so well that if it were an Olympic event we would be in with a good chance of taking the gold medal.  First thing is the unpacking. For me that is the easy part. I am emphatic that I wasn’t the last one to have the key to the lock on the suitcase(s) although it usually turns out I was. I unlock the case(s), open the lid, then turn to Pat and say “there you go” before I sit down and have a cup of tea and leave her to it. Slowly, washing machine size piles of dirty washing start to appear in a variety of washing categories. This is where I come into my own. It’s my job to feed...

  You just never know when an extraordinary story is going to come along but this one was told to me after a chance meeting with a guy called Derek one evening in the restaurant at the Salobrena Hotel. Unusually for me I was a little late for dinner and hadn’t realised that a large contingent of Spanish people had arrived earlier in the evening and had gone straight into the restaurant. I was very lucky to find the last unoccupied table and had just sat down to my meal when this man I didn’t know asked if it was alright if he sat with me because all the other tables were taken. “Yes, of course. No problem” I replied.  During the course of the meal we got chatting and we hit it off straight away and continued our chat after dinner over a beer or two. We covered all the usual topics: football, women, football, women, where we lived etc. until we got onto the subject of our youths. It was then he told me of his extraordinary childhood. This was his story. His mum was Marjory and ...