who are we?

Once the decision was made to head for pastures new I started making arrangements. I bought a caravan. I sold everything I did not want to keep, including my vinyl collection. Of that I kept everything irreplaceable and sold the rest - 22,000 LPs and 7,000 singles. I had by then changed to being a CD jockey anyway, so didn't really lose anything that was essential.

Everything I wanted to take was loaded into the caravan and the remainder was stored in a friend's garage. I hadn't actually decided on a destination. I had a friend I grew up with who had moved to Corfu many years before and with whom I kept in contact. He had a bar, and told me by letter he could get me somewhere to live and DJing work. It was a attractive prospect.

On the day of departure, in April 1990 I hitched the caravan, got into the car and headed for Portsmouth to take the ferry to Caen on the French Normandy coast, leaving the house spotless - even giving the carpets a final vacuuming.

On the way I posted a letter to the Building Society explaining my situation, along with the house keys and estranged wife's address, and if they wish to take it further, they had to contact her, she being legal co-owner.

Watching the French coastline hove into view I at last felt free. I had almost £100,000, in cash, from savings and realising assets, and was looking forward to a completely new life. The intent was to drive down through France, turn left and head for an Italian port where I could catch a ferry to Corfu. On the way south I thought "I wonder what Spain is like?" having never been there, so instead of turning left, turned right and eventually arrived on the Costa del Sol - the coast of dreams.
The first person I spoke with was a British bar owner named Mike Thompson. We became very good friends subsequently. He gave much good advice and lots of information, having lived there for some considerable time himself. His Danish wife, Betti recommended I go to Gibraltar and put my money into a bank there. The choice was the Danish Jyske Bank, or the Bank of Credit and Commerce Intl. Offering the highest rates of interest, I chose the latter. Another huge mistake, but you never know these things at the time of course.
I had parked the caravan at a site outside of Torremolinos, deposited my money in Gib., and started touring the coast to decide where I wanted to settle. Marbella was too 'Barclaycard and small change' for me, and Torremolinos itself was too 'package holidays and Watneys Red Barrel', so settled on an area just outside called La Carihuela, and quickly secured an apartment. I didn't particularly want to live on the caravan park for very long.
Although I didn't need to work, I had no intention of doing nothing all the time. The option, not speaking the Spanish lingo, was hanging around bars all day, socialising with fellow Brits. Not for me, so I went to a local nightspot and got a job as DJ and MC.

Things jogged along, working in various venues as a DJ, and looking after Mike Thompson's very popular Bee's Knees pub on Mondays (his day off) and at other times when he went on holiday.
Anecdote 1. One year Mike went on holiday in February, traditionally a quiet time of the year, and I took over. It was essentially a tourist pub and Mike was (still is) a very genial host with a fabulous personality. A Romford 'cheeky chappie' character. He expected me to just adopt a 'caretaker' role, and knowing I could never emulate him, I didn't try. To do well during the six weeks he was to be away, I had to put my stamp on the place.

I installed my DJ equipment and started the Midnight Music Mix. Easy-peasy really because by the time I started, the customers had a few libations inside them, so keeping them happy was no problem with 60's music and sing-along stuff. To cover behind the bar I got help from a young guy called John. He so enjoyed being there he worked for nothing. If you remember the film Cocktail with Tom Cruise, John could do the similar bottle tricks and he was a great hit with the customers. I also needed somebody to work the kitchen and employed a girl named Chrissie. She had a great personality also, and I dubbed us the 'A' Team.

When Mike came back, he walked into his bar and could not believe it. The place was packed to overflowing as it had been for me for most of the time. When he later checked the figures, he said I did better than he could have done. He was very happy.
Anecdote 2. The following year he went on holiday in February, and again I took over. This time I concentrated on the kitchen. If you manage to capture people when they first arrive, and they like the place, they return often throughout their stay on the Costa. It becomes their local.

I was fortunate to get a party of five on their first day. They came back every day for breakfast and virtually every night, often for a meal but certainly to drink. Collectively they spent a lot of money.

Back in England, traditionally I would have a party on my birthday. (I've just remembered another anecdote I must relate.) Anyway, because that was not practical, I said to the party of five I would cook them a special meal, by way of saying thank you for their custom. It wasn't for free, just something a bit different to the normal pub grub.

They arrived. I had set out a table, and served some starter I had concocted, followed by lasagne, one of my specialities, accompanied by salad, garlic bread etc. I jokingly said "This is probably the best lasagne you are ever likely to taste." Pink cava (that's Spanish el cheapo champagne) flowed, and the meal finished with a dessert served in tall sundae glasses, with layers of different things. Brandies and coffees followed - lots of them. A good time was had by all, as they say. They enjoyed it so much, they wouldn't stop talking about the meal for the final couple of days of their stay.

Sitting in the bar during that evening were a tourist family - a couple with a young daughter. The following day they asked if I would make a similar lasagne for them. They were curious to find out if my claim was lived up to. Naturally I was happy to oblige. They didn't want all the extras, just the main meal.

They came back in the evening and I served them. After they had finished eating and went across to ask their opinion. They agreed it was the best lasagne they had ever eaten. We started chatting, and it came to light they owned a gourmet restaurant in Leeds, and also belonged to a gourmand club, going out en masse once a month to eat in swanky restaurants. The man asked where I had gained my experience and what other things I could cook, and was surprised when I said I was self taught and capable of many styles of cookery. He then said if I fancied moving back to Leeds; he would give me a chef's job in his 4-star eatery.

I have to admit, the offer was tempting, but thanked him for the accolade, based on one relatively simple dish, but declined.
Anecdote 3. This goes back to the time when I was with Pauline. I had a favourite Chinese restaurant in Staines I enjoyed going to. (Their bbq ribs were amazing.) On my 40th birthday, late in the afternoon she asked me to go and get something she had ordered, knowing it would get me out of the house for a couple of hours. It was a ruse. (On reflection it is just as well I agreed.)

When I returned, the house was transformed. All the regular furniture had been moved out, and there, sitting round one of the large circular tables from this restaurant were a dozen of my closest friends from the DJ world, from all parts of the country. I was totally lost for words.

I don't spex that 'appens too often.

This is very true Tom.

Then from the kitchen, two waiters appeared to serve an incredible Chinese banquet. All my favourite dishes from their menu.

You can imagine the planning and co-operation that must have taken to achieve such a perfect birthday surprise. It typified the wonderful person Pauline was. Nothing was ever too much trouble to create happiness for others.
Back to life in Spain, I went to work at a bar called El Nidos, The Nest, as nightly DJ. There I met a woman called Janice. I fancied her and we got together. That was possibly the biggest mistake I ever made. She was a 'Jekyll and Hyde' drinker. One Bacardi and Coke too many, then her complete personality changed, never remembering anything the following day. She was so foul-mouthed it made troopers blush.

It was while I was with her the BCCI was closed down, accused of nefarious banking practices by the Bank of England, It went into receivership, and unfortunately I did not register as a creditor in time, so did not get any partial refund until much later, and then only a minimal amount. I had lost my nest-egg, amounting to £88,000.
Anecdote. I knew a guy called Terry who sold his villa. He had £120,000 to deposit and went to the BCCI on the Thursday to pay in his cheque. When they folded, everything stopped. Accounts were frozen, all the staff were sacked and the doors were locked. This happened on Friday - the following day. Imagine how he felt.
The ironic part to this, it was Betti's influence that made me choose the BCCI, she saying the Jyske Bank were no good. As it turns out they are still going, being a Danish National Institution.
The relationship with Jan worsened until one day I came home about 4.30pm. Jan had been on the bottle, and she, and her son from hell had destroyed everything I owned. My computer, disco equipment; anything breakable had been thrown out of the 7th floor window to smash on the roof of a workshop building below, and they were standing in the hallway, snapping all my CDs and LPs. The bitch had even put her fist through an oil painting I had paid £10,000 for. She was screaming a tirade of vile abuse at me.

Very likely most men's reaction would have been to resort to violence, but not being that way inclined, especially to women, I held myself in check. I attempted to quieten her down. No chance. She picked up a kitchen knife and stabbed me. I grabbed two bags of dirty washing, knowing they contained some of my clothes, and exited PDQ.

It so happened I was installing some disco lighting in a bar in Los Boliches at the time, and was using the owner's car for a couple of days. I drove to Mike's bar to settle and try to sort out what the hell I could do. I had virtually no money, nowhere to live. All I now possessed were the bin-bags and my box of tools left at the job. I was facing a desperate situation.

Needing to return the car to its owner, I then also had no transport. Mike had the keys of an ancient Ford Cortina that was abandoned. It had to be parked on a downward slope to even start the thing as the starter motor was kaput, but this served as my wheels, and my home for the next three weeks. I survived by going around doing any odd job I could get in exchange for food.

Life wer'nt easy for a boy named Frank.

You can say that again.

Life wer'nt easy for a boy named Frank.

Shut-up Tom. I'm not in the mood for your humour. 

Then came a turning point. I met a couple named Jeff and Rose who had just opened a bar in Los Boliches called Beauty and the Beast. Taking pity on me they offered food, a bit of pocket money and somewhere to sleep in exchange for working behind the bar and helping in the kitchen.

So started the next phase.

Somewhere to sleep was in fact the pool table with a foam mattress on it, surprising comfortable as it turned out, but being as they opened at night-time only, I had to wait until the last customer left before being able to retire.
We got on well, and things started to pick up for me again. They then had to go to England to deal with something important, and I was left in charge. It was to be only for a couple of weeks, but Jeff contacted me to say their visit had to be extended, and they didn't know when they would be returning.

didn't have cross words or anything, just didn't gel, but she had a personality that really brought the male customers in, especially the Spanish. She was an outstanding attraction. 

Big brist.......Be quiet. This is a family website, and anyway, no.

I ran the kitchen and concentrated on building up the food trade. We did Sunday lunches that were excellent value. I engaged a keyboard player who was well known locally, to play Thursday afternoon tea dance music.

Business improved considerably and we were getting pretty busy. After a few months, Jeff called me to say they were returning.

They arrived back and the place was rocking. Obviously they were pleased with the way it had been run, but, understandably, they wanted their bar back, so it was all change time again. Maria had intended to move to Marbella anyway, and Ness was so well known and spoke excellent Spanish, so could get a job anywhere. Jeff and Rose stuck the longer opening hours for a short time, but really wanted to revert to opening nights only again.

I offered to bring my crowd to his bar for a percentage of the take. He had nothing to lose, so that arrangement started. Another big advantage for me was the pub had an upstairs flat, only used for storage, so I also had somewhere to sleep. Roy, a former builder subsequently rebuilt the place - the picture above is how it looks now.

Due to a problem we had to stay overnight in a hotel, and go to Ceuta the following day, so ended up in this bar for the evening. I was very attracted to Glo. She was a small person with a big and endearing personality. We got on really well.

The crowd I was with, and I made our visit to Morocco, and on the ferry coming back, I wrote Glo a letter saying how much I would like to see her again. We talked on the phone a few times and a couple of weeks later she came to Los Boliches to visit, I by then having moved out of Roy's place into a small flat of my own.

This became a regular weekend occurance, then the two-day became three-day, then four-day and after a couple of months, she upped sticks and moved in with me.

We had a great time. She was always happy and we had lots of laughs. I was still working at The Bell, but had a disagreement with Roy. Although we didn't lose friendship it was mutually agreed I would leave.

I acquired a Transit van, did bits of transport work, odd jobs and carpentry work, and Glo and I started doing boot markets. We moved to a larger ground-floor apartment on the Fuengirola feria (fair) ground, where every Saturday a very big car-boot is held - more than 500 stalls. As we were right on the doorstep, we had a permanent stall, and became quite well known.
Anecdote. I got to know a well known local Radio presenter, Craig James. He nicknamed me Cap'n Frank because I always wore a yachting style cap. He meant Cap and Frank of course. During his show on Friday nights he would advertise my stall. "This week Cap'n Frank's got such and such. You can find his stall on the third roundabout, left-hand side." When people came, and saw the cap, it was immediately assumed the epithet meant Captain Frank, and invariably asked where my yacht was moored. If nothing else it was good for business, getting free radio advertising.

As a 'by', his lady friend was also a Gloria, an elegant woman who swore in a posh voice. I always found it most amusing.
Glo had parted from here husband many years previous and had been living on the Costa del Sol for almost two decades. As they had never divorced, when he died, she became entitled to not only a widow's pension, but also his company pension, he, having been 27 years at Ferranti Electronics. He also had continued living at their family house, and when this was sold, she suddenly became pretty well off. We started to look for a better home.

All the neighbours were Spanish, which wasn't a problem as Glo spoke the language fluently. Even though I had lived in the country quite a while I never got to grips with the lingo. Laziness to learn I suppose, but have never found foreign language learning particularly easy. The only downside was, because this was a new development, and our Urb. of 45 houses on three levels were the first to be built, we spent a number of years constantly listening to the daytime diggers breaking rock to flatten sites for new dwellings. At one point there were five going at the same time.
Anecdote. When the Council decided to give a name to the road - Avenida de la Libertad, There were many new villas and small Urbs. on both sides, and they changed the numbering to the opposite direction. This caused two main problems. The house numbers changed, and occupiers attached their new numbers, usually in small ceramic tiles, to their front walls. However, they failed to remove the old numbers. They and their friends knew where they lived, so couldn't see the necessity.

The other problem was up from our Urb. was another - Residencial Rocomar, but with the same numbering. So, we became Urb
Santangelo, Avda de la Libertad 12. But 100 metres away, was Res. Rocomar, Avda del la Libertad 12. Are you still with me? Add to this the policy of the Postal Service only to employ people with dyslexia, residents stood no chance.

The post people, riding along the pavement on their Vespa scooters doing deliveries gave up also. If they had maybe 250 letters to deliver for the whole road, they would simply shuffle them, and share them out equally. Of course, this meant you often didn't get your utility bills, so had to be on your toes as to when one was expected. If a bill wasn't paid by the time limit, you could arrive home to find the electric or water had been disconnected, and sorting that out was a horror story in itself. It sounds funny writing about now, but at the time it was a nightmare at times.
Anyway, I'm rambling; back to life in Spain.

I fort you said this was to be a synopsis?

I did, and it is. If I was to include everything that has gone on in my life, I'd be here 'til I don't know when writing about it.

Well, I 'opes the readers ain't got bored, and given up, otherwise you 'as been wastin' your time.
I hadn't owned a computer for quite a while, but soon changed that by buying an Amstrad. A while later an Amstrad support club formed and I became involved. After the turn of the century, Amstrad users were on the decline, being replace by PC owners, so we changed the name to COG - Computer Owners Group. I am still a keen Internet member.
The house was nice to live in, but being just the two of us, we rattled around a bit. Glo and I still enjoyed fun times, but gradually the spark went out of the relationship. The truth was, whilst I loved her, I was becoming less in love, and when that happens, the physical side goes. It was in no way any fault of hers, it was just something that happened with me, and even now I regret it. She was worthy of better.

She found herself a place on her own in Los Boliches, and I stayed in Arroyo. After a while apart, we started seeing each other again, but only as friends.

Keeping the house meant I had to find the rent every month and pay bills on my own. Not too difficult as I was doing regular carpentry and maintenance work. However, living alone in quite a big house seemed ridiculous, so I started taking in lodgers.

One day I went to meet a friend in Fuengirola who had a computer shop in Las Rampas, in the centre of town. Whilst waiting for him to lock the premises, a Spanish toe-rag attempted to mug me by grabbing my man-bag. He failed to wrest it from my grip, but in trying violently spun me around. I didn't think too much of but started to get a lot of pain in my back and left knee.

So started the the final Spanish chapter in the life and times of yours truly.