The new rules British travellers will face in Gibraltar
UK visitors to Gibraltar will face new Brexit-related red tape, including potential refusal of entry by Spanish officials, once the post-Brexit agreement between the UK, Gibraltar, Spain and the EU is ratified.
The deal will introduce two passport checks on arrival, with a Spanish frontier post augmenting Gibraltar 's existing checks, aligning the territory with Schengen area formalities.
British passports will need to be less than 10 years old and valid for at least three months beyond the planned departure date, adhering to stricter Schengen rules.
Future requirements will include providing facial biometrics and fingerprints under the EU's delayed entry-exit system, and EU customs rules will prohibit bringing certain food products from the UK.
The special status allowing British holidaymakers extended stays in Gibraltar will end, with time spent there now counting towards the 90-day Schengen limit, removing an option for long-stayers.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Guardian
3 hours ago
- The Guardian
What's it like to be 23 and starting a new life? I'm unpacking a lot of emotions as my son heads to the US
There's an accurate, if snide, thing I've seen online that reads 'No parent on Facebook can believe their child has turned any age', and yes, OK, not the 'on Facebook' bit, but there is a rote astonishment at time passing that I sometimes slip into, contemplating my adult sons. But, allow me, just this once, a Facebook parent moment. My elder son turned 23 last month and we've just been to London to collect his stuff at the end of his degree. On the way, I realised I was 23 when I moved there myself. You can't often pre-emptively pinpoint parenting 'lasts', but when you can, they're strange and melancholy – even when they're not, objectively, things a person would choose to do again. This trip involved (I hope) my last time standing, hips screaming from the drive, texting 'We're outside' as we waited for our son to wake up (my husband ended up throwing a ball at his bedroom window). It was definitely my last time removing my shoes amid the overflowing bins of that sticky-floored student house, and hovering over the Trainspotting-esque toilet then deciding against drying my hands on any of the towels. It ended with the last trip along the M1 squished between a salvaged chair, a duvet and an Ikea bag of pans threatening to decapitate me if we made an emergency stop. We were bringing his stuff 'home' knowing that it won't be home for him in the same way again: he's moving to New York this summer. Maybe not for ever, but for years, not months. To compound the Big Feelings, and the sense of the dizzying slippage of time, my husband and I used the trip to wander round Fitzrovia, where we shared our first flat back when I was 23. It's different but not unrecognisable: the hospital has been demolished but Tesco is thriving; the Phones 4U where we bought our first mobiles is gone; but the bank where we opened Isas when they were invented, proud of our new maturity, hangs on. Our block had acquired several Airbnb key safes but was otherwise unchanged. 'It'll be baking up there,' said my husband, staring up as the late afternoon sun struck the flat black roof. I made him repeat himself, because I have become slightly deaf this year, then we reminisced about the brutal summer heat (it's probably even worse now). We walked around, pointing out survivors: the famously cheap pizza place, the tiny Italian sandwich shop, the DIY store where we panic bought a fan. Then we sat down for a sensible soft drink, because we were tired and I was struck by an ultra site-specific memory of walking through Percy Passage to meet him one evening, having just discovered I was pregnant with our now-23-year-old, enjoying the last seconds of incredulous solo joy before sharing the news. Then another: shuffling along Goodge Street at dawn in labour, stopping outside Spaghetti House (still there) to ride out a contraction. Both our sons were born in this neighbourhood – it changed my life like no other. The place still felt familiar; what 23 felt like is harder to access. I was a mess, I think: I had been ill and was extremely self-absorbed; I spent far too much time worrying about my weight. I spent little, if any, time worrying about the world, though. World-wise, things felt fine – 'A new dawn has broken, has it not?' Tony Blair had just told us – and if they weren't, it certainly didn't feel like my problem. There aren't many new dawn vibes for my son's generation as they enter adulthood. I'm not sure we've given them much of a chance to spend a few self-absorbed years focusing on their own dramas, have we? We've gifted them more pressing matters: a collapsing climate, catastrophic economic inequality, a crappy jobs market and even the reemerging spectre of fascism and nuclear war (retro!). Plus, it's all inescapably fed into their faces 24/7 – not a feature offered by a 1997 Phones 4U Motorola. But I hope, even so, that 23 can still be what it was for me: confusing but full of possibility. An adventure. The perfect age to find yourself in a new city. Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist
The Sun
5 hours ago
- The Sun
Expect jaw-dropping beaches, cool castles and a whole lot of fun in Carmarthenshire
OZZY, a 1kg Bengal eagle-owl, swoops through the Welsh woodland dotted with brightly painted toadstool fairy houses to land gracefully on my three year old's gloved arm. 'Again!' Raffy shouts, with a grin almost as big as Ozzy's head. 8 8 It's safe to say, the 90-minute flying experience with expert Alex and three owls – including the tiny but speedy Frodo and barn owl Allan – has gone down a treat. Experiences cost £65 per adult, £30 for over-fives ( We're in Carmarthenshire, a county in South Wales that most tourists drive through on their way to Pembrokeshire – more fool them. The wide, sandy beaches here hug the coastline for miles, majestic castles perch on hilltops and local delicacies are plentiful. A Bug's Life First to win over the kids is Llanelli Wetland Centre with the pinkest (and smelliest!) flamingos I've ever seen, thanks to our visit coinciding with mating season. But the highlight is undoubtedly a minibeast hunt, after which volunteer Eric pops the children's finds – a millipede, slug and spider – under a microscope and gives us a zoology lesson way more interesting than I ever had at school. Who knew slugs poo out of their heads? Entry costs £11.15 per adult, £7.20 for over-threes ( Home for the week is Dylan Coastal Resort, where our swish three-bedroom spa lodge has all the mod-cons and a hot tub to soak up stunning vistas of the Taf Estuary. On-site is the floor-to-ceiling glass-fronted Milk Wood Spa with yet more gorgeous views of the ever-changing tide from its sauna, steam room, indoor pool and alfresco hydrotherapy pool. Later, a wander downhill brings us into pretty Laugharne, the town made famous by poet Dylan Thomas. We follow the scent of wood-fired deliciousness to the sun-dappled courtyard of Ty Glo and head inside to its tiki-inspired interior. Underrated towns you need to visit The vibe is super-family-friendly, with a brilliant basket of games to borrow and fantastic food. The king prawn, mango, chilli and coriander cocktail with gyoza crisps is exquisite and the goat's cheese bonbons are the definition of moreish, both £10. Pizza perfection comes in the Ultimate Hawaiian (sorry, Italians) with its ham hock, chargrilled pineapple, jalapeños, fresh corn and onion. We also dig the Lamb-orgini – roast lamb, caramelised onion, feta and mint yoghurt and the Wild Hog, smothered in wild boar ragù with hog salami and piquanté peppers, £17.50 each ( Castle on the hill Wales has more castles per square mile than any other country in the world, so we picnic on leftover pizza the next day in the dreamy grounds of Dinefwr Castle ( Dinefwr delivers ramparts, towers and plenty of hidden nooks for hide and seek, plus there's a parkland with deer and roaming long-horned White Park cattle – residents here since the 9th century. 8 8 Parking costs £5 for non- National-Trust members, while castle and parkland entry is free. During our days exploring this enchanting county, Wright's Food Emporium proves a smart stop-off. The deli is stuffed with local goodies and the pork belly cubano – with its positively obscene slabs of pork belly layered with ham, cheddar, pickles and sriracha mayo inside the fluffiest of ciabatta, £14.50 – is possibly the best sandwich I've ever devoured ( I'm also a firm believer in elevenses, so I'm thrilled to discover that the Gwili Steam Railway serves Welsh elevenses on board. We sip tea (hot choc for the kids) and feast on Welsh cakes and bara brith (fruit loaf) as the train, operated by the sweetest fanatics, trundles past grazing animals and the crystal-clear Gwili river. We hop off to explore an old mail train and ride the miniature railway, before returning to base in Carmarthen. Tickets cost from £13 per person ( Cool runnings One of my favourite memories from childhood holidays in Wales is whizzing down a bobsleigh-like toboggan ride, and the country's longest is at Pembrey Country Park, a 500-acre haven of beach, woodland and grassland. Soon, husband Andy and I are racing down the metal track on sleds, Poppy and Raffy on our laps squealing with delight. 8 8 Three rides cost £7.50 ( The day flies by just as fast, as we follow a bear trail through the pine forest, clamber over dunes and fly kites on the golden sands. A local tipped me off about Pantri Lolfa, a gorgeous cafe nearby, so we're fuelled by excellent coffee and gooey brownies. Later, as the sky turns crimson, citrus-cured salmon with seaweed, pickled cucumber and a champagne sauce, £11.50, plus crab tagliatelle, £24, make for a tasty tea at Dylan Coastal Resort's Milk Wood House. Horse play I always love the idea of horse riding, only to usually spend the entire trek afraid I'll be bucked off. But I've never felt as relaxed in the saddle as I do riding Apache at the excellent, family-run Marros Riding Centre. 8 8 Raffy rides Woody, a fuzzy ginger Shetland, while six-year-old Poppy gets Harry, a grey Welsh mountain pony and Andy, an Irish cob named Hercules. Having learned the basics – start, stop, steer – we ride through the farm's ancient woodland and I'm pretty certain the kids are now dreaming of owning a pony. A one-hour trek costs from £42 per person ( Our last night is spent in Laugharne's Dexters at Browns, the older sister of Ty Glo and a steak-lover's dream. Andy and I splash out on 40-day aged chateaubriand with dauphinoise potatoes, creamed spinach with rarebit topping and béarnaise sauce, £76, paired with glasses of primitivo, £7.75, as the kids tuck into mini rump meals, £12 each ( It's certainly an upgrade from my mum's meat and potato pie, often squished from the long journey down in the boot of our car as a kid. But just as those precious memories hold a special place in my heart, retracing family holidays with my own little ones now holds a special place, too.
Times
5 hours ago
- Times
How Harry Potter shops took over the high street
I t is a very normal summer's afternoon in Cambridge. Students — gowned and happy — wait to graduate in Old Schools courtyard. A donnish cyclist barks 'get out of the road' at four backpackers but the four backpackers are more concerned with their Instagram filters. Across the road, herds of tourists, corralled by guides and umbrellas, make a beeline for a Harry Potter shop. They have plenty to choose from. Until last year, Cambridge somehow managed with only one shop devoted to the boy wizard — The Department of Magical Gifts, which opened at the top of Rose Crescent in 2018 and became an immediate success. 'We were on the Shambles in York and we saw The Shop That Must Not Be Named, which was the first unofficial Harry Potter shop,' says the owner, Roger Lefever, speaking over a dramatic soundtrack from the films. 'My wife nudged me and said, 'That's what you should do.' I'm a bit of a geek anyway but I wasn't confident enough to give it a go until we saw those queues in York.'
