sometimes, when we’re here, in Portugal, we remember being 13 (when we first came for a Visit) and how we dreamed of being GrownUp with an apartment and a job and international travel and money to buy books and afternoons in cafes, writing sophisticated screenplays and A Diary full of wicked-and-wonderful-tales and friends and lovers and a long blue-blue-dressing-gown (like Noel Coward).
we used to go into the city and hang out taking photographs of the Trams and tourists.
everything happened (well, we didn’t predict getting sick, but we wrote our way through it, with your help, so even That felt part of the Plan).
and this afternoon we’ll show you the tourists and the trams too ;)
for now – curling back down under the blue-blue-linens, a moment of reading and a last sip of the milky coffee that was so kindly brought in after a rat-a-tat Very British knock at the door…….and a cheery “Good Morning!”