I've been thinking about some old photos that I've just posted up on a website dedicated to my former life in the Royal Navy's medical service.
These particular photos were from an impromptu concert we organised one hot summer's night in Gibraltar - we used to call them "Sod's Operas". This is a contraction of "Ship's Operatic & Dramatic Society", itself a pretension pricking monika under which increasingly drunken sailors performed increasingly marginally acceptable turns, some well rehearsed and trotted out every time, others less well thought through. Oh, happy, carefree days! My heart aches now to think it has all gone.
Anyway, I had to write captions and names on the photos. You need to know that the community at the Naval Hospital in Gibraltar was very small. The regime was very relaxed and benign back then and we were essentially one big gang who worked, played and partied together all of the time.
Imagine my shame then when I couldn't remember all of the names (we're not talking about many here). If you had told me at the time that within 20 years I would not be able to name everyone in the room that memorable night I'd have laughed in your face. Each of us would have given the other the shirt from our back, these were friends for life surely? Sadly though, you would have been right.
Such an intense time, such colourful, firm friends and yet...and yet. My name is Robert and the only bit of twisted comfort I derive is in the thought that I am probably in lots of other peoples photos from those days marked as "Tall, gawky lad. Roger???".
