Obviously, this entry is not going to be a detailed chronicle for historians or history buffs, but just a summary of my experience, which, unsurprisingly, is highly influenced by my reincarnationist vision, already inseparable from my being, at least until I die (and I hope beyond).
It is also very curious that in this type of situations my own British pride rekindles. Even when it had reduced considerably during my last years as a British Navy officer, some of it must have remained. I still can’t believe this thing they say, that the Naval Museum of Madrid is one of the best in the world. I don’t deny I was quite impressed, especially by the collection of old weapons, but I doubt very much that in London there is not a much larger museum and with better pieces than this one. If I ever go to London, I promise to tell whether I found it or not, and I will make a comparison as it is meant to be. When I entered the first room, full of kings and queens portraits, I couldn’t help a wry smile. I guess this comes down to the little I know of Spanish history —my knowledge comes basically from the books of Arturo Pérez-Reverte, because unfortunately we are only taught useless and boring things at school— as much as my own experiences serving a Crown that, just as all men and women who hold power, the least they do is to care for the well-being of all those who risk their lives at the sea day after day.