… and me.
Last night I gave in and crashed at a hotel. It was a bargin at $25 but dear me I wish I hadn’t. Amazingly it was the worst nights sleep I’ve had so far, even with air-con a comfortable bed and clean sheets. I’m obviously getting far to used to my sleeping mat! (I told you it was comfortable).
But tongiht sees me hunting out a hotel again, as there’s no camping on Gibraltar. You’d think this was easy, there’ll be loads of hotels here! Think again. There are about 6, and they’re all full. The only hope I have is the Youth Hostel which opens at 4:30pm. It has 2 single rooms (£25) and then dorms that sleep 12 (£15). I’m crossing my fingers that I can get the single room, but if not then the dorm will have to do.
I’m here for 2 nights as I digest the recent politcal unrest in Morocco and wait for the latest advice from the Foreign and Commonwealth office after the bombings in Algeria – it’s totally unconnected, but at the same time, I’d rather sit here for and extra day and make sure that everything is fine before I grab the hourly ferry across to Cetua.
Looking at BBC News the election has gone well, with little unrest and with a low turn out… this boads well, but given the latest attempt to set off a terroist device next to a tourist coach in Meknes if I do go, I need to be very vigilant.
Tomorrow I plan to see a little of Gibraltar, but I don’t want to see too much as it’s quite possible my darling wife will be flying out to join me here around the 27th September for a couple of days, and I’d rather leave things for us to do together. I miss her dreadfully and it’s the hardest thing to deal with whilst I’m away. I find myself quite tearful most nights.