…and we’ve arrived back home.
After two wonderful weeks in the sun we’ve come back to rainy Manchester.
One advantage of being back is that I’m finally feeling cool and hoping that I’ll manage to get my self to exercise.
While on holiday, I did some swimming. It was nothing to get excited about: you see, I’m scared of swimming in the sea and the swimming pools are not for swimming. The swimming pools are full of little kids and large floats.
Walking was mainly in the evening and to the bar where there was very nice port and ice cream – none of these very healthy or good for my waistline.
I’ll write about this separately.
Tonight, I’ve decided to be brief and entertaining; no heavy stuff – just the story of our holiday in pictures.
(Oh, and this kind of holiday is the kind of stuff that makes me really grateful that we’ve no consumer debt whatsoever.)
Let the story begin
Our flight to Faro, Portugal was early in the morning. We left the house at 5am and at 5.20am arrived at Manchester Airport.
And the queue for the security check was curling outside the Terminal.
After 40 minutes queuing we got to a sign which I consider to be an affront to all passengers.
Both John and I got frisked which I consider to be an enormous loss of opportunity: if only men were searching women and the other way around, the whole thing could have been so much more fun.
After un-eventful flight we arrived at Faro Airport. Our transfer was there and by lunch time we were in our apartment.
Here is where we spend the afternoon and much of the next two weeks.
Of course it was all fraught with danger: when you sunbathe with cliffs nearby a stone may fall on you.
I also ran but I’ll have to pick it up; the Comrades is not going to run itself and walk amongst the palms it isn’t!
Yesterday we went back to Faro Airport.
(This is a picture of the lounge where our bank account gets us.)
I said ‘good bye’ to sunny Portugal…
…and now I’m saying ‘good night’ to you, my friend.