The Wanderer Returns

And finally the sun over Portugal remembers what it's supposed to do - shine. One of the coolest things about living here, from a Brits point of view, is that it's a lot warmer and a lot less wet than the UK. Or was. What happened? I was in the UK recently and it was the usual pre-spring weather - overcast, cold, grey. I swear on the flight back I left it behind.

Unfortunately, I've spent the last few days puddle-jumping. Fine if you really are a frog. Which I'm not.
One thing I did bring back with me though, is a child. My eldest one to be precise. He's now living and working in Lisbon. And can speak better portuguese than me, damn it!

I did make a discovery over there though. Food. As in, the food I used to eat compared to the food I eat here. Big difference. Huge. After 24 hours, I was in trouble. Toilet trouble. On returning here, I'm all good to go again. Or rather, not to 'go' quite as often. I've decided that it's all the additives we use - we all know they're there - but we're so used to them we don't even consider what filth we may be putting in our mouths ... Here, I eat only fresh food, cooked from scratch. I don't use sauces, packet mixes, granules and such. The bread here is better too. Not milled using the UK Chorley Mill process - which means portugeues bread is also free of additive filth ...

What we eat really is a cultural difference though. I have yet to see anyone buying what I'd mentally lable as junkfood in a supermarket. In fact, junkfood is rarely available here. Personally I was never a lover but hey! - it's part of your diet whether you intend it to be or not. Here I don't cook the same food as I'm used to eating. Somehow, my palate sneakily adapted, without my knowledge or consent. And I'm the better for it too.
The Youth (son) was only saying the other day that he (accidently) eats far more healthily than he did in the UK. That's not to say I was a Pot Noodle mum. I cooked dinners, pasta and what have you. But it's the stuff that's included that I believe is the problem.

Anyway. I feel better now I'm back. And the sun doing what it's paid for is a big help.

Military Man

Simões is unwell. And I don´t know what to do. He's seriously cheesed off and in persistant pain. I want to help him - but find myself reduced to nervous onlooking and ineffectual nursing.

Who is Simões? He's my partner. Other half. Man. And he's broken ...

Apparently the problem is related to some old military injury (Simões is military to the chromosones) and it's coming back to haunt him. It's related to the pattella and ball and socket joint in his right knee. He's now at the stage where he can barely walk.

We've been to the hospital. He's had x-rays etc etc. Unfortunately - the military here is a slow turning machine. And ... I suspect ... not overly concerned with the knee of one staff sargent. However - I disagree. Simões has given years of his life to the military - not to mention literally hundreds of top quality men during the time he marched them up hill and down dale ... whilst turning them into soldiers.

And so today we are sat ... him in pain. Me in worry. I'm hoping that either something can be done about it or at the least ... it starts to heal itself.

Other than that ... it remains bloody freezing. I continue to wrap myself up like an egyptian mummy. Oh and some news ... one of my sons is coming to live in Lisbon. Sometime in or around April. I can't wait! Some part of my family ... here with me.

How absolutely fabulous!

Happy New Year. Etc.

Ha - tis here again. The dawn of a bright New Year. Or maybe it's a dull one? It's definitely a cold one ...

I spent mine down the Praça do Comércio, along with ohhhhh ... a whole bunch of other people. There was a free concert plus mobile bars. Cool. Mobile toilets too. Not cool.

It would seem that the portuguese celebrate with family - if they have one. As in ... their little people, younglings - their children. I was almost lost in a sea of small folk - some hanging on tight to mummys hand, some a little older and the really young. The kind that laze around in chairs with wheels and expect the parents to do all the hard work ...

Are you amazed? I was. New Years Eve gets kinda rowdy in my neck of the woods. I never even considered taken my children with me on previous NYE's. Last night - I wished I was portuguese. Despite the alcohol, despite the merrymaking - I had a fabulous evening. And it was all the better for the fact that I was in great company ... and surrounded by little folk.

Portugal? Somethings you got absolutely spot on!