“You can always recognize British people easily,” Jonny says, “they walk like they’re not entirely normal.” I smile. He should know; he’s British and he’d be the first to admit that his own motorics fit his description. We’ve walked through the costums office on our way from Spanish La Linea de la Concepción to British Gibraltar and now we stand packed and ready with our guitars and equipment in the oppressive heat before a barrier. Waiting for airplanes. Yes: laying right across the one and only access road to the city are the runway and airstrip of Gibraltar airport. Practical. Maybe a "hidden" sign of the Dutch that conquered this little part of Spain together with the British then. Airplanes in 1700? Hmm. “No, then the Brazilians,” Jonny interrupts my thoughts, “they dance when they walk!
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