Well, we have arrived at our destination without alarm, whilst not really knowing what to expect, such was the hurry with the booking.

After an arduous couple of hours with sun seeking casual racists at Gatwick’s Flying Horse pub, our flight was a relatively peaceful one. We were sat next to a guy who was on his friend’s stag weekend, but only just, after he left his passport on a train at Sevenoaks and had to summons his wife to pick it up and drive it to Gatwick; much to her delight apparently.

It was nice to meet a like minded chap, his ineptitude filling me with a somewhat alien feeling that was bordering on competence.

Once at the airport, we were directed to a mini-bus along with a heavily tattooed chap I wouldn’t like to have a fight with, his vacant looking girlfriend and three young ladies of about nineteen who, it appeared, were heading off to to Portugal’s Waffle & Crepe eating contest.

Unusually, we were the first off the mini-bus and on first impression, it was quite apparent this was a quiet resort for families and Portuguese holidaymakers, featuring a long promenade of little bars, market stalls and restaurants. Quite where we could get a pint of John Smiths keg bitter and some bangers and mash is anyone’s guess?

So after a pizza a beer or two and a cocktail, we retired early to our room and our distinctively uncomfortable beds. It is probably because I am used to king sized beds but I have to say that I felt like I was sleeping on an ironing board, such was it’s width and solidity. Unfortunately, in the early hours, off I fell, frantically grabbing at thin air Tom & Jerry style as I woke, a millisecond before slamming into the floor.

With a sore knee, the rest of the night was fitful but at least I slept a bit more before breakfast, which as part of the deal, is included. It was okay and with the temperature already rocketing the fruit salad and water melon was a welcome start to the day.

A Hot Beach in Portugal

We then headed to the beach had a dip in the sea where a rather shocked Harry witnessed a 70 year old tit falling out of a costume. We got burnt, got bored and went for a walk, stopping for a beer and a sandwich as we did so. We followed this by going to the pool, going for a swim, getting a bit more burnt and then a bit more bored, though this time we read a for bit as well.

We both concluded that we are both useless at sunbathing and doing nothing and would have to find other things to fill our day or we would go crazy with boredom, no matter how nice the sea looks or how cool the swimming pool is.

Fortunately, there are lots of castles and monuments to see in the Algarve and when I mentioned this to Harry his face, as you can imagine, lit up with joy so unbridled, I could have cried a paternal tear of joy.

So, with that suggestion in mind, tomorrow we are going to a water park with a bloody great tub of factor 20.

Off for Cocktails now.

Goodbye.