I am not sure whether you have clocked it, but I simply adore Watermelon, absolutely adore it. A large piece is a staple almost every lunchtime, although in England during the winter it’s more difficult to source. During the summer months they’re easy to find and are gloriously juicy. Apart from eating it on its own and in salads, you can serve thin slices, cut with a Mandoline, a la Carpaccio. Simply add some rocket, capers, grated Parmesan and black pepper with an unctuous dressing. (Note 1)  

Back in March 2014 I scribbled about my observations of beach life in Brazil (PC 08). I added a postscript (PC 09) which starts:

“It’s a little known aspect of life in Brazil but there is something of a fixation on the bottom here. Is it the only country in the world to have a competition for the most beautiful bottom? Have you ever heard of Andressa Soares aka Mulher Melancia (Watermelon Woman), who’s famous for having an enormous bottom that she shakes and …….. you know the sort of thing? For those with more time on their hands than sense, look at her on YouTube.” (Note 2)

Watermelon is called melancia here in Portugal and pastèque in France, where my youngest grandson Theo aka Kitkat was enjoying a slice ten days ago.

When you return from a trip or holiday do you unpack straight away or leave the suitcases unpacked with the tops open, like some Pandora’s box(es) (Note 3), from which you pull stuff out over two or three days? Some items are consigned to the washing machine or even the rubbish bin; did we really want another shell/piece of driftwood/souvenir from Madeira/postcard you should have sent to Great Aunt Doris but were put off by the queue to buy a stamp (Note 4) and now it seems rather pointless, to put an English stamp on it when the exotic nature of mail from abroad is so often the stamp/the remnants of some expensive sunscreen that seem to have leaked a little and the cling film with which you wrapped it is all greasy ……….

….. a half-open packet of Oreos that got stuffed in at the last moment and now, after sitting inside the suitcase on the luggage trolley on the baking airport tarmac, are a soggy mess of crumbs and chocolate that seems to have oozed (such a descriptive word!) out and stained that silk skirt that you bought from the market stall and you know how expensive it is to dry clean a silk garment and is it worth it?/the fountain pen that you hoped wouldn’t leak so you popped it in a plastic bag, but pulling it from your suitcase you notice your hopes were not listened to by God, or whoever you asked/Ah! Yes! The aerosol of unisex shaving cream which you put in the suitcase as you only need a very small amount and it’s extremely expensive abroad, but you have doubts whether you’re complying with the ‘Do Not Put These Items In Your Baggage’ notice at security (No explosives (obviously!), matches, flammable items, poisons etc) as it might come under ‘gasses and pressure containers’/the cardboard box of cheese that you thought wouldn’t smell but after a couple of days forgotten underneath some unwashed knickers you couldn’t decide what was smelling the worse/the glass souvenir was packed really well but you hear something as you pull it out

(This glass Kiwi I bought back from Nelson, New Zealand in 2019 and it arrived intact!)

I once worked for a well-travelled woman who obviously decided at the last moment to place that bottle of oh-so-nice red wine in her suitcase. She imagined that wrapping it in a few T-shirts that would be washed on her return home would be safe enough but found on the luggage carousel at Arrivals some reddish liquid in the vicinity of her suitcase and …….

I am one for instantly unpacking my suitcase and putting the items away in the holiday cupboard/drawers/rubbish/wardrobe/laundry bag; Celina is too. I didn’t imagine anyone did anything different!

There are four apartments here in the building on Avenida General Carmona in Estoril. Following one apartment’s owner Glenda’s demise two years ago her daughter has put her apartment on the AirBnB website. Last weekend, after a fortnight here, Jaap, Petra, Eefje and Christina returned to their Dutch home near the Germany city of Aachen. As a seventeen year-old I hitch-hiked with a school friend down to Luxembourg and then back up through Koln, Aachen and Antwerp. I remember Aachen as we spent the night in a half-built house sheltering from the rain, having crossed from Germany into Holland.

My regular readers will know that after their seven days here in Estoril at the end of July and a week’s turnaround at home in the UK, my daughter and family drove took Le Shuttle to France and thence to Troyes, Saint-Pourçain Malchère north of Clermont-Ferrand, Orleans and Bayeux. With three boys she and husband Sam can’t just sit on the beach and will have researched what to see and where to see it; mind you the gîte they rented with another couple had a pool so that became the centre of most activities! Last week they visited Blois in the Loire Valley where there is a Comic Book Museum (so, The Adventures of Tintin peut-être?) and found this wonderful set of stairs that the town use to display local artists’ work.

Richard 26^th August 2022

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 For dressing, 4 tablespoons olive oil, I tablespoon lemon juice, 3 tablespoons mustard, 1 tablespoon white wine vinegar and 2 tablespoons of chopped chives.

Note 2 Read the rest of PC 09 at www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 3 Driven by curiosity, Pandora opened a container left in the care of her husband, thus releasing physical and emotional curses upon mankind.

Note 4 Don’t you like those places which actually sell stamps as well as postcards?

Holidays are a time to recharge, relax, reinvent, explore places and ideas; time to think. We are not all the same and for some they want Action! Action! Action! This poem by Rose Milligan is quite apposite; it was first published in The Lady magazine in September 1998.

Dust if You Must

Dust if you must, but wouldn’t it be better

To paint a picture or write a letter,

Bake a cake or plant a seed,

Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must but there’s not much time,

With rivers to swim and mountains to climb,

Music to hear and books to read,

Friends to cherish and life to lead.

Dust if you must but the world’s out there,

With the sun in your eyes and the wind in your hair,

A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,

This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must but bear in mind,

Old age will come and it’s not kind

And when you go (and go you must),

You, yourself, will make more dust.

Buggy jumping off bridges in New Zealand, white-water rafting down the Colorado River, climbing in the Alps or in the Highlands of Scotland, running marathons in far flung places, whatever floats their boat – well, for me sailing of course! You may remember that wonderful quote from WH Davies: “What is this life if full of care, we don’t have time to stand and stare?” For those who like to ‘stand and stare’, or even to sit on the beach and stare at the horizon, letting one’s mind wander, that too is OK!

I am not a fan of motor racing but obviously, by a process of osmosis if nothing else, am aware of Formula One and the Grand Prix races that are staged all over the world; aware also of the UK’s current star Sir Lewis Hamilton. Just five kilometres north of here is the Autódromo do Estoril, a racing track that hosted the Portuguese Grand Prix from 1984 to 1996. Difficulties in maintaining the track to current safety standards meant that Formula One is now raced on the Algarve International Circuit in the south of Portugal and Estoril’s now used for other motorsport events.

A house on Rua Lisboa, on the north side of the Casino Estoril, used to house the Estoril Racing Team. No longer, although delightfully on the pavement outside is a more permanent reminder:

On Wednesday I thought I should work on this postcard as, at that stage, it was only in draft. Always good to write …… then reflect! By the afternoon I thought ‘tomorrow’s Friday so I must add the photographs and finish it’. Then I noticed that the date on my watch seemed a day out (17th), so changed that to 18th. It was only much later that it dawned on me that ‘tomorrow’ was in fact Thursday ….. so I was very pleased with myself, as I had gained a day! My daughter, commenting from somewhere deep in rural France, suggested it might have been the first sign of ‘old age’: perish the thought! 

The Times, commenting about some of the jokes being told at The Edinburgh Fringe, acknowledged it’s been a warm summer but doubted whether the hens are laying hard boiled eggs? (Note 1) Other jokes that caught my eye:

“My dad always said you only get out what you put in. Which was a lovely sentiment but ultimately led to the collapse of his vending machine business.” Ali Brice

“I can’t even be bothered to be apathetic these days.” Will Duggan

“My attempts to combined Nitrous Oxide and Oxo cubes made me a laughing stock.” Olaf Falafel

“Today I sent a food parcel to my first wife. Fed Ex.” Richard Pulsford

A week or so ago, in the setting sun, we joined Carlos & Camila on their patio as they entertained some friends, Dido and Anna, who had just flown in from Rio de Janeiro. Camila was providing succulent slivers of beef cooked to perfection on their BBQ. I had never met the other couple so there was that brief exchange of hello, who are you, where do you live, what do you do, how long are you here, I love your T-shirt/hat/earrings and all that sort of stuff, wanting in some subconscious way to put a metaphysical boundary around them. As I tucked into some of the wonderful beef, I openly admitted I rarely ate much meat these days; an occasional steak and the odd piece of chicken (not to suggest that all cuts of chicken are odd) sort of cover it. I added that I never cook a leg of lamb now as it’s got such a strong smell. “Ah! You have to remove the gland!” says Anna. The what? I was a little sceptical; how didn’t I know that the leg had some gland that smelt when it was being cooked? So I YouTube’d (that’s a verb, right?) it and sure enough a butcher gave a demonstration of how to remove it. This new-found knowledge makes me want to roast a leg of lamb, without the gland!    

Being on holiday allows some of us to read more; last year I finished 51 novels, discarded another one after just three pages and struggled with The Alexandria Quartet by Lawrence Durrell on and off for weeks before giving up! The obituary of Derlva Murphy (1931-2022) had me ordering Full Tilt from my local Waterstones. (Note 2) It’s the story of her riding a bicycle from Ireland to India in 1963. A woman, on her own, riding a bicycle to India, in 1963? (Note 3) I was not disappointed!

And finally that wonderful Australian response ‘No Worries’ translates to Hakuna Matata in Swahili!

Richard 19^th August 2022

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Did you know that white-feathered hens lay white shelled eggs and brown-feathered ones brown eggs?

Note 2 If a book has explanatory maps and other stuff you want to refer back to, for me a physical book is so much better than an e-book.

Note 3 When her bicycle needed some repair in Iran, she was intrigued to find that the Iranians didn’t use screwdrivers!!!!! Anybody verify that?

I must have read this little piece in some travel magazine in a dentist’s waiting room, so it was way before COVID and the associated suggestion that anything you touched might carry the virus!! It’s always amazing just how many copies of magazines are published weekly and monthly; in the UK it’s about 2800 magazines each year. The more upmarket the dentist’s Practice, the more up-to-date the reading material.

If you don’t buy magazines, then arriving slightly earlier than the appointed time will give you a chance to catch up; fortunately the days of year-old magazines seems to have disappeared! Some of you may remember I saw a photograph in one-such magazine of a chap doing yoga and sweating profusely; this led to me asking a friend what type of yoga made you sweat and off we went to the Bikram Yoga Studio in Balham one Wednesday evening. That class was on 11^th March 2009; never looked back and now it’s a vital part of my life.

I digress; I think it best to simply reproduce the story entitled ‘The Holiday Swap’ verbatim:

“Annie and I had thought for some time about doing a house swap abroad for a couple of week’s holiday. We had read how people had become frequent ‘swappers’ and had loved the random nature of the places available to them. Not for them the standard Time Share in Torremolinos in Spain (Note 1) or the second home on the Falmouth Estuary in Cornwall. We had invested in neither but, knowing that we were swapping with someone who was going to live in our home, it felt like we could trust the arrangements. What could go wrong, I thought? (Note 2)  We would each treat the others’ house as our own. One advertisement stood out from hundreds of others on www.holidayswapsfunguaranteed.com , a beach house in the Bahamas.

“We’re open to swapping with a professional non-smoking couple for two weeks in May. No children. Go to www.seashorevilla.co.bs for photos etc.” Nice and simple; their website showed a beach house in Red Bay on the north of the largest island, one we could easily live in and Trip Advisor confirmed others had loved it.

Once we had established what would be included and what not, for instance car insurance, and would they look after our cats, eventually we decided this was ‘good to go’, as they say.

“Tropical Storm Rupert has the potential to turn into a hurricane and may head towards the coast of Florida and further east”; the radio murmured in the background as I put the final items into the suitcase and I rue the day that that particular news item didn’t register, didn’t have me reaching for a map. Instead we simply locked the house front door and headed to the airport.

We flew into Nassau in the Bahamas a few hours late and found our little aeroplane that would take us out to the island. A friendly customs official informed us that, although Tropical Storm Rupert had not developed into a hurricane as forecast, the west coast had suffered a very small tidal surge 12 hours before; a certain amount of damage had occurred. We gulped as we recalled that our villa was on that side, but the sun was shining and we hoped our ‘seashore villa’ would be intact. On landing, a taxi took us on our way and we looked expectantly around every bend on the road, glancing down at a photograph of the villa and trying to identify it.

“Oh! No!”

We both shrieked, for there it was ….. in a very sorry state …… a corner of the tiled roof had been torn off, the sea-side of the house was missing six feet, two of the supports for the decking had been washed away leaving it at a crazy angle and a palm tree lent drunkenly across the carport. Fortunately the taxi driver was able to suggest a couple of local hotels and, after a few telephone calls, we found a more suitable location for our two weeks in the tropical sun.

 “Oh well” we thought; at least David and Ted will have a great time in Clapham.

(Over in London )

“Look! Here it is, No 11 Elms Road” exclaimed David to his husband Ted, as they peered out of the cab at the wide Victorian mid-terraced house. It sort-of looked like the photos Annie and Mike had sent us – but we glanced up and down the street and realised they all looked the same.

The keys are under the flower pot. We lifted the edge of the pot, found some house keys, and opened the front door. It was much as we expected although in our mind’s eye the decoration was a little different. And where were the cats, we thought? We had been there an hour when we were startled to hear a key being put in the front door lock ……

We had got confused between ‘Elms Road’ and ‘Elms Row”. Thirty minutes later, as we were unpacking in the right house, David’s mobile rang.

“David. It’s Mike in The Bahamas. I am afraid I have some very bad news …..”

It was attributed to Mike Palette. Sort of puts you off doing something like this, doesn’t it?

Richard 12^th August 2022

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS In this Tuesday’s Times a news story about The Bahamas and a shark attack!!

Note 1 My mother and step-father almost got sucked into investing in a Time Share apartment in the Algarve, such was their popularity in the 1980s; fortunately they decided against it. And then, a year after I moved to London in 1987 I spent an evening off Leicester Square in London, listening to a very polished ‘Time Share’ sale’s pitch. I had actually gone for the amusement and to take away the ‘Silver Tea Set’ – available with no commitment! It wouldn’t have lasted 2 days of use!

Note 2 Somehow reading this I know something bad’s going to happen!

oldie

In 2019 I managed to get my daughter and family to come out to Estoril for a week, staying in a small AirBnB within walking distance of where we were staying. You may recall from PC 158 that one of the issues with three small boys is the endless changes of clothing required – and the AirBnB had no washing machine. 

This year she managed to secure a little apartment with a washing machine, in the centre of Cascais, for herself and her boys, Jasper (10), Reuben (9) and Theo (5). Celina and I had gone ahead and passed through London Gatwick without any problems although simple observations included watching people drinking vodka at 0900 as if this was necessary to initiate the holiday mood, overdosing on breakfast and wandering through the Duty Free wondering whether it was indeed as it said on the tin! We have all got used to the security rigmarole involved in travelling these days, although we no longer have to remove our shoes, distanced in time from 2001 when Richard Reid attempted to detonate a bomb in his trainer on a transatlantic flight. So why are some people surprised by what they have to do? A little like watching people at a supermarket checkout and when the cashier says: “That’ll be £43” seem surprised that they have to pay and start searching for their credit card, cash or smart phone.

Some swimming pool accessories far outweigh their cost by their popularity and the endless fun they offer. Three blow-up plastic rings are a real hit: getting them inflated is hard work without a little pump and actually deflating them requires a similar effort, keeping that little valve open to let air out whilst sitting on the ring. Standing in the pool, holding the inflated ring aloft allowed a steady stream of children, around and around, diving through it like performing Dolphins!

“Mummy! He said ….”

After supper in the AirBnB one evening, out came a pack of cards. I am not sure what the name of the game was, but it was fun, sitting on a little balcony with the sun setting over the rooftops.

One day we hired a boat to get out onto the sea. Being a sailor I’m always envious of those who have a yacht abroad; just climb aboard, set some sails, let go the mooring and …… bliss; Oh! That it would be that easy! Diniz’s boat was a little like a twin-hulled barge with a superstructure and a moveable table on the open deck. I wasn’t sure why this couldn’t have been clamped into place when at sea, as invariably those on board push against it when a wave stretches their ability to stay upright …. and the table moves! Instinctively I wanted to coil the warps left in a mess at the stern! Old, particularly good habits never leave one.

Motored out of the Cascais marina …..

…… past the largest yachts you see anywhere (no jealousy here!). The skipper Diniz is a Dragon sailor …..

……. and tells me he has ten stored in one of his warehouses. He’s 50, on his second marriage with a four year old daughter; out comes the iPhone – in the old days it would have been a crumpled photo stuck next to the money in his leather wallet – and he proudly shows his gorgeous daughter. Half an hour later we’re anchored in a little cove and paddle boards and one inflated plastic ring ensured a couple of hours of endless fun ….. in the cold but clear blue water.

It’s always important to get decent protection from a Summer’s sun, particularly at sea as there is added reflection from its surface. Reuben has my skin, ‘English Pale’, and turns to pink and a slightly darker shade over weeks, whereas Jasper and Theo inherited their maternal grandmother’s olive skin and just go brown …….. and then browner.

“Mummy! He said ….”

Theo has a nickname – Kitkat! Apparently one choice for his first name was Kit, but then Theo won. I had imagined the nickname had come about from the advertisement- you might say to your child who was being particularly obnoxious: “Oh! Give me a break?” And for me the immediate response would be: “Have a Kitkat!” so powerful are these adverting slogans. So Theo has become Kitkat! Our parents choose our ‘first’ name and sometimes it’s not popular for its recipient. Whether Theo stays KitKat will depend on lots of variables; my daughter changed her ‘given’ name many years ago.  

There’s a sea water pool in Estoril and, as the incoming tide gradually increased its depth last Wednesday, the boys played in the cold water. An empty Pringle’s tube was endlessly used, unsuccessfully, to catch little fish  ……

……. and the sea wall provided a perfect launching pad for jumping in.

On their last evening we went to Capricciosa Cascais, a beach-side pizzeria in the centre of town. It was not a good experience! We stood around for five minutes waiting for someone to show us to our table and, despite offering Sangria on the menu, couldn’t do a glass of Prosecco. But the main issue was cold pizzas! The base was delightfully thin but this needed to go on a warm plate as it lost its heat quickly! This and a lack of generosity with the cheese and tomato sauce suggested over-the-top portion control! But we all enjoyed some good puds!

And then the week’s over and they are hugging us and saying ‘Best Holiday Ever!’ and all that sort of thing and then into Mario’s taxi for the 45 minute drive to Humberto Delgado Airport in Lisbon. One suitcase didn’t make it but, with over six flights between Lisbon and London Heathrow each day, it was promised in a couple of days. At the time of writing it was still adrift – somewhere!

Back in the UK, time for them to take a breath before heading off to France and a few more: “Mummy! He said ….”

Richard 5^th August 2022

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk