SILH (7) A Penultimate Tale

“And it’s so hard to change
Can’t seem to settle down
But the dreams I’ve seen lately keep on turning out
And burning out and turning out the same.”

Take It To The Limit.  The Eagles. 1975.


So, there we were embedded in a place called Mogan, Gran Canaria. The Spearfishing was going to be excellent and after arduous discussions, the chief of police allowed us to dive and fish on condition we sold our catch to one particular restaurant. We found out later the restaurant was owned by his brother 🙂

Mudguts and I utterly failed to comply to ‘normal’ standards. We drank too much , we once tried to steal some cigarettes and got caught, the first and last time I tried to steal anything. We got into constant fights with our American cousins, usually over girls. They were camping along the coast and in the early hours of a moonlit December morning the feud culminated when we scaled the cliff above their camp, collected ammunition and bombed their campsite with rocks. They say the higher ground gives you an advantage, what they don’t say is that if you are outnumbered you really don’t want to be stuck on the top of a cliff. Luckily we were fitter than they were and managed to escape with a few bruises. They were so disgruntled at having been woken in the middle of the night and bombed with rocks  that they reported the incident to the local police. This entailed a visit and warning from our friendly chief of police. We made a pact to turn over a new leaf. We concentrated on diving and training, which basically meant diving all day, running up and down a mountain every night and then washing in the sea. But I was good for a while 🙂

There was a local girl who I adored and one night we stayed out past her curfew, terrified of going home late, I came up with a plan. I broke into a cabin cruiser and we spent the night there. I don’t know if you have ever met an irate Spanish father? Can I just say that I managed to survive with the intervention of The Master, but I never saw her again, ‘c’est la vie’ was becoming my catch phrase. A Dutch guy in a neighbouring camper accused us of stealing his cushions and syphoning his petrol. At least this time we were innocent but our local police chief spoke to The Master and Mudgut’s brother, John, and once again we were reprimanded. The Master warned us what to expect if we crossed the Guardia Seville. I explained that Franco was gone and if arrested I would demand to see the British Consul. I had no idea that I would come to regret those words and that somewhere in the future our reputation would come back to haunt us. 🙂



About charliecountryboy

Part-time Carpentry Assessor. writer, runner, guitarist. Curious about life and all those wonderful people in it.
This entry was posted in 1970'S, Humour, Life, Relationships, Travel and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

13 Responses to SILH (7) A Penultimate Tale

  1. Gene Molloy says:

    Shazzam, back when you were 18 it appears that you and Ginger Baker were from the same tribe. Nice cut, Charlie.


  2. Nice story. Very enjoyable.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. cdrslan says:

    That was a cool little journey. Thanks for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Carolyn Page says:

    I’m imagining that young boys/men still get up to this mischief these days! Heaven help them… 🙂 🙂 🙂
    I’m now primed for the future event. You certainly sailed close to the wind; but, hey, you made it through… Or, did you?

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Pingback: SILH (8) Desparate Finale | Charliecountryboy's Blog

  6. I’m reading the blog back to front, so I know karma is about to step in. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Pingback: SILH (10) Lets Join the Foreign Legion (Part 2) | Charliecountryboy's Blog

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