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Very, very late in posting this. Indeed, a whole day late. There is a reason (there is always a reason). I was out of Lisbon for the weekend, and was nowhere near a computer for the whole time. It was a strange and liberating experience, and one that I ought to attempt to have more often. I went up to the Gulbenkian Centre, where Sílvia was watching some of her students rehearse their performance of a Camões play. They were rehearsing in the open air auditorium in the park behind the Gulbenkian Museum - and a more beautiful location would be very difficult to find. While they were finishing up, I went for a wander through the gardens, eventually finding my way to the cafe. By 12.30 we were on our way - but first we had to stop off at Alcochete - a small town in the middle of a conservation zone on the south bank of the Tagus - this meant crossing the Ponte Vasco da Gama. We had an excellent lunch in a small restaurant overlooking the river, with fine (albeit somewhat hazy) views of both the bridge and Lisbon. A couple of hours later (these thing cannot be hurried), and we were on the road again, to Santa Catarina via Vila Franca de Xira. We arrived in Santa Catarina at around 4pm, and relaxed for a while, renewing acquaintances and supping cerveja, before finally making our way to São Martinho, where Pedro, Helena and Lucas were patiently waiting for me (well, they were watching the Portugal v. Slovakia World Cup qualifier). On the way, we had a bit of an accident on one of Portugal's less well maintained byways. We managed not only to puncture a tyre by hitting a six inch deep pothole, but we also managed to dent the alloy wheelhub. I had to take several photographs of the damage and the road, because the intention is to get the local authority to pay. Anyway, we changed the wheel and drove on to a nearby fountain, where Alex and I washed the dirt off our hands, while Sílvia and her Aunt Elsa went to speak to some men who were working on the road. It turned out that one of the men was the president of the local parish council responsible for the road maintenance. He asked us to show him the hole, so we drove back to the scene, where he stood rubbing his chin before declaring that responsibility lies with the road contractors, and that the claim has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the local Municipal Council at Alcobaça. After all this excitement, we eventually arrived at São Martinho at about 8.30, just in time to catch the beginnings of the evening's celebrations (the fair was in town). After the football was finished, we went for a stroll past all the stalls before heading back to the stage (which was directly opposite Pedro's house) to listen to the live music and watch the people having a good time. By 11pm I was ready for my bed, but the live music continued right outside my window. The last thing I remember is the sound of the Blue Danube vibrating on the window. Certainly a busy day... but a good one (except for the puncture). I will catch up with these posts. Promise.

This time last year I went all gothic