I f**king hate pikeys

Living in the foothills of the Serra de Estrella in central Portugal is supposed to be an idyllic existence – stunning picture postcard scenery, perfect weather all enhanced by friendly and convivial neighbours. Aging donkeys retiring peacefully by the river, toothless old crones carrying bags of washing on their heads. Just the sound of birds… Continue reading I f**king hate pikeys

A glimpse of the real Portugal…

…is still visible if you know where to look for it. Progress has been marching through western Iberia like a premenstrual Croatian federation wrestler on her way through the chocolate aisle at Asda (Sidcup branch). Tarmac and concrete seem to be enveloping the countryside – new roads bringing prefabricated apartment blocks, supermarkets and petrol stations… Continue reading A glimpse of the real Portugal…

You can take the girl out of the city…

I was worried that Tango (grrr) would miss the dulcet tones of the Vancouver Fire Department blaring it’s way down West Broadway at ridiculous o’clock or the benign rantings of the local window-licker arguing Russian politics with a bus stop. A lifetime in the city is a powerful draw – midnight delicatessan runs, Malasian takeouts,… Continue reading You can take the girl out of the city…