Rock on.

Thursday, and we took a day trip out of Spain to the rather strange policital and geographical abberation named Gibraltar. It´s kind of like walking into a section of England which had been cut adrift from the mainland and towed to the south of spain. Every detail, right down to the yellow numberplates, was British, as were most of the tourists.

The rock itself is a commanding lump of limestone, which we climbed (and climbed and climbed), managing to see the faint outline of northern-most africa from the very top. Our wonadering took us past hundreds of big birds, some dead, and a large colony of monkeys. Having just had babies, it was rather a task to drag Rowena away from the monkeys, but when forced to choose between baby monkeys and lunch, there was really no competition.

Lunch was a little strange, as news was just coming in about the bombings in London, met with a large degree of indifference by the brits in Gibraltar I must say, although one guy at the bar suggested we ´kill the damn lot of em´. Not quite sure who he was referring to, but we decided that the better course of valour was to walk back across the border (passport checks not really an issue here!) and find some dinner.

Still, a rather bizarre day in a rather bizarre place, but we can say we´ve been there, and have 12,599 photos of monkeys to prove it. Ah, digital...