all, realising that Yolanda was from Galicia, the very mention of Vigo had triggered off Stan’s recent memories of yet another clash of fishing disputes, this time between Britain and Spain, arch-enemies of old.
In 1988, the British Conservative Government passed the infamous Merchant Shipping Act that in effect tried to prevent Spanish trawlers from “poaching” in British territorial waters under the legally allotted “quotas”. There were other reasons such as the illegal use by the Spaniards of long-haul nets for tuna fishing. The case had originally been brought before the British Parliament by MPs from the south-west of England, mainly Devon and Cornwall. In the following years, British fishermen, backed by the protection of the Royal Navy, enjoyed a free hand at fishing within their coastal limits. However, in 1998 the European Court of Justice ruled that the British Merchant Shipping Act contravened the “freedom of movement” principle of capital and people and was considered illegal by European ruling. The Spaniards were delighted and took the case to the London Court of Appeal in the United Kingdom and the Spanish fishing industry sued the British Government. Compensation valued at an estimate of one hundred million pounds was granted to the owners of almost a hundred Spanish fishing vessels.
The Devon and Cornish fishing communities were shattered.
‘There’s more to my home town than fishing you know,’ retorted Yolanda once Stan had calmed down when they had confronted each other after his lecture on coastguard activity. ‘Why did you spout out about a Merchant Shipping Act, anyway?’
Stan thought for a moment and once again raised the rhetoric. ‘Do you know what happened last week? One of your trawlers from Vigo sank out there,’ he said pointing out towards the ocean. ‘And you know what; it was being chased by our navy! Now isn’t that a coincidence?’
He hadn’t quite realised what he’d said as Yolanda quickly picked up his slip of the tongue. ‘How should I know? Maybe Francis “bloody” Drake was after its gold.’
Stan was taken aback. For a split second neither said a word until he burst out laughing. ‘I’ve done it again, haven’t I?’
As he apologised, both realised that their verbal attacking was going nowhere. Once they had calmed down, Stan began to explain all about the effect that the Spanish fishing fleet’s activity in the area over the years was having on the fishing industry of the south-west of England. How, in their eyes, the international maritime law was not on their side, nor was the British Government interested in their fate. He told her about the saga of his own family and the grief that had descended upon them at the time. For once, Yolanda kept quiet and listened to the other side of the story. Her own version would’ve been quite different, as she really had nothing to do with the fishing world. On the contrary, her family had more positive ties with Britain than Stan could ever imagine. There was another reason for her silence. It was Stan himself. They were, by now, out in the college gardens and walking towards the car park.
‘I’ve been ranting and raving all about us Cornish and you’ve said nothing. Tell me more about you and…’ with a sheepish grin, ‘… convince me I’m completely wrong.’
They were reaching Stan’s Land Rover but before she could answer, looking at his watch he cried, ‘Christ! I’ve got to get back to the station… tell you what… how about dinner tonight? I know a place…’
‘Yes!’ she said. ‘What time?’
Stan had dated many of the local women and was not immune to female charm. The odd tourist during the summer months added to his collection of conquests, but most had lasted a few weeks or a couple of months at the most. Yolanda was different. His first encounter had triggered off a strange attraction, a sort of intellectual challenge within him to educate this ignorant Spaniard on his
In 1988, the British Conservative Government passed the infamous Merchant Shipping Act that in effect tried to prevent Spanish trawlers from “poaching” in British territorial waters under the legally allotted “quotas”. There were other reasons such as the illegal use by the Spaniards of long-haul nets for tuna fishing. The case had originally been brought before the British Parliament by MPs from the south-west of England, mainly Devon and Cornwall. In the following years, British fishermen, backed by the protection of the Royal Navy, enjoyed a free hand at fishing within their coastal limits. However, in 1998 the European Court of Justice ruled that the British Merchant Shipping Act contravened the “freedom of movement” principle of capital and people and was considered illegal by European ruling. The Spaniards were delighted and took the case to the London Court of Appeal in the United Kingdom and the Spanish fishing industry sued the British Government. Compensation valued at an estimate of one hundred million pounds was granted to the owners of almost a hundred Spanish fishing vessels.
The Devon and Cornish fishing communities were shattered.
‘There’s more to my home town than fishing you know,’ retorted Yolanda once Stan had calmed down when they had confronted each other after his lecture on coastguard activity. ‘Why did you spout out about a Merchant Shipping Act, anyway?’
Stan thought for a moment and once again raised the rhetoric. ‘Do you know what happened last week? One of your trawlers from Vigo sank out there,’ he said pointing out towards the ocean. ‘And you know what; it was being chased by our navy! Now isn’t that a coincidence?’
He hadn’t quite realised what he’d said as Yolanda quickly picked up his slip of the tongue. ‘How should I know? Maybe Francis “bloody” Drake was after its gold.’
Stan was taken aback. For a split second neither said a word until he burst out laughing. ‘I’ve done it again, haven’t I?’
As he apologised, both realised that their verbal attacking was going nowhere. Once they had calmed down, Stan began to explain all about the effect that the Spanish fishing fleet’s activity in the area over the years was having on the fishing industry of the south-west of England. How, in their eyes, the international maritime law was not on their side, nor was the British Government interested in their fate. He told her about the saga of his own family and the grief that had descended upon them at the time. For once, Yolanda kept quiet and listened to the other side of the story. Her own version would’ve been quite different, as she really had nothing to do with the fishing world. On the contrary, her family had more positive ties with Britain than Stan could ever imagine. There was another reason for her silence. It was Stan himself. They were, by now, out in the college gardens and walking towards the car park.
‘I’ve been ranting and raving all about us Cornish and you’ve said nothing. Tell me more about you and…’ with a sheepish grin, ‘… convince me I’m completely wrong.’
They were reaching Stan’s Land Rover but before she could answer, looking at his watch he cried, ‘Christ! I’ve got to get back to the station… tell you what… how about dinner tonight? I know a place…’
‘Yes!’ she said. ‘What time?’
Stan had dated many of the local women and was not immune to female charm. The odd tourist during the summer months added to his collection of conquests, but most had lasted a few weeks or a couple of months at the most. Yolanda was different. His first encounter had triggered off a strange attraction, a sort of intellectual challenge within him to educate this ignorant Spaniard on his
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