Friday being Martyn’s birthday, we had barbecued steak for lunch, a snooze and then a night at the theatre: 42nd Street at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. Lots of familiar songs, of course, but also fantastic dances and lavish sets. Thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
We contented ourselves with some gentle gardening and housework over the weekend. Gentle because we are both still in the throes of man flu, coughing and sneezing rather extravagantly. One gets fed up of it after six or seven weeks. Still, we got to sit out the garden work this morning. Neighbouring farmer David comes round once a year to trim our hedges, and was here today to do his usual excellent job at 40% of the figure his competitors charge.
A run of fine days lately, so we’ve potted up some containers with bulbs and polyanthus, brought on from plug plants. That allowed me to clear out one of the cold frames, but it is now full again with penstemon and cistus cuttings, potted up individually this afternoon. We ought with luck to be able to replace some of the leggy old parent plants once they have flowered in the spring. One of my German conversation group friends came round this afternoon to return part 2 of the lawnmower we’d lent her, so she went off with a few cuttings: she is currently populating a new garden, and likes penstemons, ce qui tombe bien.
Today is our twelfth wedding anniversary. No big plans, since we’re still coughing and sneezing, and in any case have had more than our fair share of gallivanting lately: we’ll barbecue some sirloins again for supper, and just enjoy each other’s company.
Wednesday 24 October 2018
Thursday 18 October 2018
Home
Good old João was there to collect us on Tuesday at 7:00 as promised, and drove us to the airport in plenty of time for our flight home. The airport was remarkably busy, but I guess a lot of business people would be zooming off to morning meetings at that hour. The non-Schengen end of the airport was much quieter, so we could sit and drink our tea in comfortable chairs in the Costa near the gate. Unlike our flight out, the return flight was free of drama, thank goodness. But I was wrong about the TAP seats. We travelled out in row 7, and back in row 20, and at some point behind row 7, the cabin changes from business/cattle to cattle only, with a seat pitch that makes EasyJet seem super-generous. Back at Gatwick, it was a return to the mediocrity that is the hallmark of the British infrastructure. Two of the moving walkways were out of action, which is bad news for those of an arthritic persuasion. Still, the passport queue was very short, and we were out reasonably quickly.
The drive home was fine, with a pause in Edenbridge to shop for lunch and supper. These days we’ve learned to avoid East Grinstead, which is a terrible bottleneck. The road via Lingfield and Hever is marginally longer, but less prone to slow queues.
As soon as we got home I rang to ask for an appointment to see the doctor, and got one for 3:15 the same day! We are unusually lucky with our local practice: Martyn had the same experience last time he went. Anyway, after listening to the bellows, the doctor saw no reason to investigate further. It must just have been another cold following the last one, since the symptoms are progressing normally now.
Annie returned home yesterday, managing to catch an earlier train than the one she was booked on, and with no need to change en route. It was delayed by some sort of incident up the line, but she was still home sooner than expected.
So it’s back to the usual routines of shopping, laundry, gardening and cooking. We’ve done a fair bit of gallivanting this year, so a couple of restful months are in order before our next jaunt.
The drive home was fine, with a pause in Edenbridge to shop for lunch and supper. These days we’ve learned to avoid East Grinstead, which is a terrible bottleneck. The road via Lingfield and Hever is marginally longer, but less prone to slow queues.
As soon as we got home I rang to ask for an appointment to see the doctor, and got one for 3:15 the same day! We are unusually lucky with our local practice: Martyn had the same experience last time he went. Anyway, after listening to the bellows, the doctor saw no reason to investigate further. It must just have been another cold following the last one, since the symptoms are progressing normally now.
Annie returned home yesterday, managing to catch an earlier train than the one she was booked on, and with no need to change en route. It was delayed by some sort of incident up the line, but she was still home sooner than expected.
So it’s back to the usual routines of shopping, laundry, gardening and cooking. We’ve done a fair bit of gallivanting this year, so a couple of restful months are in order before our next jaunt.
Monday 15 October 2018
Plans? What plans?
Just as well we decided against the trip to Coimbra that I had been toying with as an excursion for yesterday. The storms have caused much devastation, and an emergency has been declared. The same weather system has flooded Lagrasse again, and caused some 13 deaths in the region. The water didn’t reach the height it did in 1999, so I’m hoping the chap who bought my house has dry feet.
Here, the weather was breezy and showery, and we contented ourselves with views of the river from the train to Campanhã, from the funicular and the Ponte Luiz I, and from a restaurant on the water at Ribeira. It being called Chez Lapin, I had a rabbit dish for the first time in decades, and the others had chicken. Not bad, vast portions, and not deadly expensive.
On the bus back home, we spotted a hot chestnut stand at the roadside, just one stop on from our usual one, so treated ourselves to a poke thereof. A first for Martyn and me, and we weren’t wildly impressed, but Annie reckoned the dry weather may not have helped them. Still, Annie prepared a tasty pasta supper for us later, so all in all we were pretty well nourished.
My coughs and sniffles gave me a rather trying evening, and a worse night, so I dipped out of today’s tourism, and settled for some minor housework instead. Annie and Martyn set off sharpish for town this morning, and were thwarted by crowds and unhelpful schedules at the Lello bookshop and the Palácio da Bolsa respectively, so visited neither, and were already back at the flat - and changed into dry clothes - by the time I returned from the recycling bin and the shop. My suggestion of lunch at the Pizza Hut across the road turned into a learning experience: I learned to avoid it in future. The good news is that there is some of Annie’s delicious pasta sauce left for supper.
Here, the weather was breezy and showery, and we contented ourselves with views of the river from the train to Campanhã, from the funicular and the Ponte Luiz I, and from a restaurant on the water at Ribeira. It being called Chez Lapin, I had a rabbit dish for the first time in decades, and the others had chicken. Not bad, vast portions, and not deadly expensive.
On the bus back home, we spotted a hot chestnut stand at the roadside, just one stop on from our usual one, so treated ourselves to a poke thereof. A first for Martyn and me, and we weren’t wildly impressed, but Annie reckoned the dry weather may not have helped them. Still, Annie prepared a tasty pasta supper for us later, so all in all we were pretty well nourished.
My coughs and sniffles gave me a rather trying evening, and a worse night, so I dipped out of today’s tourism, and settled for some minor housework instead. Annie and Martyn set off sharpish for town this morning, and were thwarted by crowds and unhelpful schedules at the Lello bookshop and the Palácio da Bolsa respectively, so visited neither, and were already back at the flat - and changed into dry clothes - by the time I returned from the recycling bin and the shop. My suggestion of lunch at the Pizza Hut across the road turned into a learning experience: I learned to avoid it in future. The good news is that there is some of Annie’s delicious pasta sauce left for supper.
Saturday 13 October 2018
Fresh air, exercise, culture and good living
We took a bus this morning to the Serralves park and museum. We didn’t hang around for long indoors, since the weather was fine, but did look quickly round an exhibition of Mapplethorpe photographs. Incredibly skilled photographer, but his predilection for photographing erections of the black persuasion and fists up people’s bums rather detracted from the beauty of, for example, his photographs of flowers. (One guess as to what he died of at 43.). The gardens are superb, and currently include a few pieces by Anish Kapoor, equally startling sometimes, but much less distasteful than Mapplethorpe’s stuff. Unfortunately, the rose garden has been completely cleared, and there is nothing between the box hedges other than plastic sheeting. We took a quick look at the house, which is a fine Art Deco pile, but rather under-exploited, we thought. Annie and I went inside the Anish Kapoor ‘Descent into Limbo’ piece. It is a cubic building, built over a spherical 3.3 metre diameter void, with a 1.5 metre opening at the top, level with the floor. The inside is painted in a very dark blue pigment to which Kapoor has bought the rights. We had to flash ID and sign lengthy disclaimers before we went in, which was partly to bolster Kapoor’s wish to create an air of menace and suspense. Well, it was impressive in its way, partly thanks to a very knowledgeable guide. The exhibition ends in January, and the sculptures will be demolished. Seems kinda wasteful, innit?
I wonder whether the museum trustees and the public transport system have had a falling out. The only bus stops remotely near the museum are 5-10 minutes’ walk away, and the only route serving it doesn’t serve the centre of town. The more exercise, the merrier, I suppose, but the old knees are protesting a bit. We took a lengthy bus ride down to the Bolhão terminus, and legged it thence to the wonderful Majestic Café for lunch. I had emailed them in my last worst Portuguese to ask to book a table, but received no answer. The charming maître d’ Mr Moreira soon had us seated nevertheless, and we enjoyed our steak/magrets, Alvarinho and pasteis de nata in the exuberant Belle Époque surroundings of the café.
Unsurprisingly, Annie and Martyn have retired for siestas while I sit and scribble, looking out on the ever-changing view of the Atlantic breaking on the rocks across the road. We love it here.
I wonder whether the museum trustees and the public transport system have had a falling out. The only bus stops remotely near the museum are 5-10 minutes’ walk away, and the only route serving it doesn’t serve the centre of town. The more exercise, the merrier, I suppose, but the old knees are protesting a bit. We took a lengthy bus ride down to the Bolhão terminus, and legged it thence to the wonderful Majestic Café for lunch. I had emailed them in my last worst Portuguese to ask to book a table, but received no answer. The charming maître d’ Mr Moreira soon had us seated nevertheless, and we enjoyed our steak/magrets, Alvarinho and pasteis de nata in the exuberant Belle Époque surroundings of the café.
Unsurprisingly, Annie and Martyn have retired for siestas while I sit and scribble, looking out on the ever-changing view of the Atlantic breaking on the rocks across the road. We love it here.
Friday 12 October 2018
Porto again: yippee!
Annie joined us at Forges-l’Evêque on Wednesday night, and shared probably our last steak barbecue of the year. It has been a remarkable month, but the evenings have started to get quite chilly.
Early if not bright on Thursday we set off for ordeal by Gatwick to catch what turned into a rather sportif flight to Porto. The good news is that the new Recaro seats in TAP’s A319s provide vastly more leg room than we had four years ago. The less good news was that the climb out of Gatwick had us all wondering if our wills were up to date. The catering was pretty minimal, but the glass of white wine was more than welcome in the circumstances. The approach was scarcely less stirring, so it was a comfort to find our landlord João waiting for us at the airport. Porto airport is as bearable as Gatwick is ghastly, and João was soon sweeping us comfortably to our apartment.
We were here three years ago, and it is as welcoming as ever. Fabulous ocean views (and some lively seas to enhance them), spotlessly clean and well equipped. Ana and João took time to show us round again, and to recommend places to see and eat. We had an apéro at a bar right down on the beach (one of the recommendations) and a modest stroll to get some fresh sea air into the tubes. There is a handy supermarket just round the corner, so we ate in on pretty tolerable pizzas, salad and rather better than tolerable wines of the Alentejo.
Today we had a pretty leisurely start, and bussed in to the centre. First stop was the spectacular São Bento railway station, whence we strolled down to the Palácio da Bolsa, arriving just after several coach loads of cruise ship tourists. Change, therefore, of plan. We strolled down to Ribeira, and hopped on the ferry to Gaia. There we sweated up the hill to Taylor’s, and took a tour of the cellar and a modest tasting of their wines. We liked the Chip Dry (and have already done some damage to a bottle thereof).
Thence down to the now mercifully pedestrianised waterfront for a decent and inexpensive lunch (but I think I prefer canned sardines to grilled ditto), and some virtuoso people watching. We took the cable car up to the end of the Luis I bridge, and then ambled gently home on two trams and a bus. We were reminded of the natural herbage of the place: pampas grass wherever it can be left to grow, and morning glory everywhere else.
Another quiet evening in, with excellent bread for a local bakery, and melon, cheese and charcuterie from the little supermarket just up the hill. In the process, we found bus stops from which we can reach some of our targets for the next few days.
I’ll post a few photos when I can work out again how to.....
Early if not bright on Thursday we set off for ordeal by Gatwick to catch what turned into a rather sportif flight to Porto. The good news is that the new Recaro seats in TAP’s A319s provide vastly more leg room than we had four years ago. The less good news was that the climb out of Gatwick had us all wondering if our wills were up to date. The catering was pretty minimal, but the glass of white wine was more than welcome in the circumstances. The approach was scarcely less stirring, so it was a comfort to find our landlord João waiting for us at the airport. Porto airport is as bearable as Gatwick is ghastly, and João was soon sweeping us comfortably to our apartment.
We were here three years ago, and it is as welcoming as ever. Fabulous ocean views (and some lively seas to enhance them), spotlessly clean and well equipped. Ana and João took time to show us round again, and to recommend places to see and eat. We had an apéro at a bar right down on the beach (one of the recommendations) and a modest stroll to get some fresh sea air into the tubes. There is a handy supermarket just round the corner, so we ate in on pretty tolerable pizzas, salad and rather better than tolerable wines of the Alentejo.
Today we had a pretty leisurely start, and bussed in to the centre. First stop was the spectacular São Bento railway station, whence we strolled down to the Palácio da Bolsa, arriving just after several coach loads of cruise ship tourists. Change, therefore, of plan. We strolled down to Ribeira, and hopped on the ferry to Gaia. There we sweated up the hill to Taylor’s, and took a tour of the cellar and a modest tasting of their wines. We liked the Chip Dry (and have already done some damage to a bottle thereof).
Thence down to the now mercifully pedestrianised waterfront for a decent and inexpensive lunch (but I think I prefer canned sardines to grilled ditto), and some virtuoso people watching. We took the cable car up to the end of the Luis I bridge, and then ambled gently home on two trams and a bus. We were reminded of the natural herbage of the place: pampas grass wherever it can be left to grow, and morning glory everywhere else.
Another quiet evening in, with excellent bread for a local bakery, and melon, cheese and charcuterie from the little supermarket just up the hill. In the process, we found bus stops from which we can reach some of our targets for the next few days.
I’ll post a few photos when I can work out again how to.....
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