Another day, another country

We had to present ourselves at the departure gate by 07:00 so that meant leaving home before 05:00, which in turn meant that I couldn’t get back to sleep after the 01:00 bladder summons.  Martyn kindly drove to Gatwick, and we spent a pretty bearable hour or so in the lounge, enjoying bacon rolls etc.  I was surprised how noisy the aeroplane was.  I suppose it’s a long time since I’ve flown, and in the meantime, BA has been buying up old hacks from the third world: this one spent its first eighteen years in Brazil, and although the cabin has obviously been refreshed, the chiottes showed their age: really grimy, and with a basin that was very slow to drain.  There was even an ashtray on the back of the lavatory door, and a sign saying not to put cigarette ends in the towel disposal chute.  But the cabin crew showed some of the old BA values, even if they didn’t volunteer to bring us tea.  I went up to the galley and asked for a couple of cups, which they were happy to provide (having asked me ‘have you been good?’)  

Well, the old bus got us here, unprepared for the 25-minute wait for passport clearance in under-performing air conditioning.  Thank you, Brexit.  I had not rehearsed routes as thoroughly as usual, so we got thoroughly lost in the outskirts of Faro.  The car, for all its Audi pretentiousness, lacks satnav, reversing camera, and other toys to which we have become used, but spins along nicely enough, and eventually Via Michelin helped us home on the iPad, hooked up to my phone.

We had lunch at a chicken piri-piri joint near the villa, and spent rather a lot of time navigating round the lethal little bones.  But they supplied a decent glass of white wine, and the service was pleasant and obliging.

Our little house seems really nice (even if the electric kettle supplied tripped the power: the replacement works fine).  It is spacious, quite well equipped and has both a large barbecue terrace and a balcony off the front bedroom.  The shower (for I stood in great need thereof when we arrived) was oddly adjusted, and flooded the bathroom floor.  Now readjusted.  The bath is lethally slippery, so we’ll need to find a non-slip mat tomorrow.  But we had a picnic supper out on the terrace this evening: bread, cheese, ham, pâté and modest amounts of Portuguese rosé, watching the sun melt into the Atlantic.  The weather may take a dip later in the week, but so far, we’re pretty happy.