Friday, January 11, 1929
Today we will call successful. I mean we shall call successful. My spelling and grammar have gone to the bow-wows it seems. But to continue, I arose, donned my monkey suit and took a brisk walk to the other side of the Rock where I perched myself high on a rock overhanging the rocky surf-pounded shore, much to the argument of some workmen repairing a wall a short distance away. From here I watched the Augustus, sister ship of Roma, sail out, bound for Naples I believe. Returning to the Victoria, I wrote a letter to Vance before lunch. The 10th letter in the last few days. Then I washed my hair for the third time in four days and climbed into my knickers, loud socks, and white sweater. Quite a pirate get-up, but my moustache and skean dhu carried the day. Mr. Merrick was waiting for me and we soon entered the pirate stronghold. Of course they insisted on our disguising some, so they tied bandannas about our heads, curtain rings on our ears, and a big red sash about our waists. We must have looked warm. Mr. Merrick claimed he was an organ grinder and I his monkey. One man did bring a monkey who took his milk and gin like a man.
The party was really lots of fun. About everybody was there, from grown-ups to kids, and all dressed in a many-colored array of outfits and a blood-thirsty-looking outfit it was. Sir Sidney and the Attorney General, Capt. Anderson, were the best-dressed and acted the part. There was a treasure hunt, a canvas chute all closed in to slide down, a pirates’ den, and a burning at the stake, etc. Lots to eat and drink. I didn’t miss the chocolate cake and dissipated to the extent of two cigarettes. The fact that I have had two cups of tea, two glasses of lemonade, one cup of coffee, and two glasses of White Horse may account for the sore throat I have now. I doubt it though.
Sir Sidney and Lady Nettleton are very nice and jolly. They invited me up Sunday, but I can’t do that. I’m going into Spain with the Baileys. About all the first people of the Rock, from the Admiral, Colonial Secretary, etc. on down were there and Mr. Merrick made sure I met about all of them. But he always had to go and tell them about how I had bought a bike in Liverpool and had ridden 5,000 miles through Europe, etc. etc. It seemed to be hard to understand how and why I would spend so much energy. Well—all went well. 40 throats cut, 7 hanged, 1 burned at the stake, and the floors all bloody. Somebody tipped all the baby carriages over and the monkey—the real monkey, not me, didn’t get tight. Mrs. Yarde was waiting dinner for us. [So, why weren’t the Yardes at that party??]
Tomorrow Mr. Merrick and I are going to play some golf if it is OK including the weather. It was very cloudy today and drizzled a little on my way home. No mail today. These instruments that make a noise like a cello rummaging around in the basement are called zombombas [??] and are used at Xmas time and at weddings where a widow marries a bachelor or a widower marries a maid.
I’ll hate to leave Gibraltar next week for I am having a real good time here. It’s after midnight now and nearly bedtime. Unless my ears deceive me, the person in the next room as a darned bad cough.