LETTER
After many months of scrounging about in Gibraltar and with no prospect of work materialising ever again, Roger and Ben had become desperate to go home. At the beginning of August, over a period of several days, they nicked dozens of cartons of cigarettes from the supermarket, put them in black bin liners, swam with them around the end of the runway, past the border railing and smuggled them onto Spanish soil. There they'd sold the cigarettes to the owner of a Brit bar down the coast. With their earnings from the enterprise they'd been able to buy one-way flights back home to Sheffield. They were pleased to be leaving, but after their departure we missed them. Envied them too, perhaps, for escaping.
The Ocean Gambler, Ernest's Yard, Gibraltar
21st August 1987
Dear Roger,
Well, are you bored with home yet? In fact, are you at home? Maybe you are reading this in prison after being caught smuggling drugs.
Funnily enough, on the Tuesday after you flew out we had some extremely exciting news. Krona has started up again. Dave, Jim, Nick and me are working in the double bottoms at the moment during the day but next week we will be doing nightshifts. So we'll be earning even more money!! The work is expected to go on for another four months. Fred, Andy and a lot of the others have all gone back to Britain and so, amazingly, Krona are short of workers.
Next week we are moving into a three-bedroom apartment in La Linea. We went to see it a couple of nights ago and it's really plush. We're going to save as much as we can - minus the beer and blow of course - and then probably get on a boat in October to the Caribbean, have a wild couple of months there, and then fly back home for the New Year. The weather's still really hot here, although Larry Levante shows up occasionally, to hang out over the Rock to make Gib cold and grey (much like a typical day in Sheffield, praps) while across the border Spain remains bathed in hot summer sunshine (shouldn't think you get much of that in Sheffield though, eh?).
Well, can't think of much else to write. Oh yeah, Malcolm broke his arm on Friday (drink-induced casualty) but has got a job looking after a yacht in Marina Bay so he has free rent and the pick of the yacht babes. Git! We got a letter from Dominic and he says he's coming back over in a couple of weeks. Life goes on, but at least we're working!
Write soon,
Regards,
Dan, Dave, Nick, etc.
Roger turned up in Gibraltar a week later having bought a one-way ticket out of Manchester airport with his first cheque from the dole. Of course there was no work, we'd no apartment, no prospects. Roger received the bad news with admirable calm and out of guilt we made room for him and his old sleeping bag on the boards of the Ocean Gambler.
The Ocean Gambler, Ernest's Yard, Gibraltar
21st August 1987
Dear Roger,
Well, are you bored with home yet? In fact, are you at home? Maybe you are reading this in prison after being caught smuggling drugs.
Funnily enough, on the Tuesday after you flew out we had some extremely exciting news. Krona has started up again. Dave, Jim, Nick and me are working in the double bottoms at the moment during the day but next week we will be doing nightshifts. So we'll be earning even more money!! The work is expected to go on for another four months. Fred, Andy and a lot of the others have all gone back to Britain and so, amazingly, Krona are short of workers.
Next week we are moving into a three-bedroom apartment in La Linea. We went to see it a couple of nights ago and it's really plush. We're going to save as much as we can - minus the beer and blow of course - and then probably get on a boat in October to the Caribbean, have a wild couple of months there, and then fly back home for the New Year. The weather's still really hot here, although Larry Levante shows up occasionally, to hang out over the Rock to make Gib cold and grey (much like a typical day in Sheffield, praps) while across the border Spain remains bathed in hot summer sunshine (shouldn't think you get much of that in Sheffield though, eh?).
Well, can't think of much else to write. Oh yeah, Malcolm broke his arm on Friday (drink-induced casualty) but has got a job looking after a yacht in Marina Bay so he has free rent and the pick of the yacht babes. Git! We got a letter from Dominic and he says he's coming back over in a couple of weeks. Life goes on, but at least we're working!
Write soon,
Regards,
Dan, Dave, Nick, etc.
Roger turned up in Gibraltar a week later having bought a one-way ticket out of Manchester airport with his first cheque from the dole. Of course there was no work, we'd no apartment, no prospects. Roger received the bad news with admirable calm and out of guilt we made room for him and his old sleeping bag on the boards of the Ocean Gambler.