Beside the Seaside

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In Which Yr Correspondent Appears To Be Naked

October 6, 2007 by Mike

Costa Nova

I'm going to try to write this entry as simply as possible. A followed by B followed, yes, by C. If the prospect appals you, here's a brief summary:
   I sunbathed; it got foggy; I washed some clothes.

Yesterday I sat on the beach and sunbathed. It's a big beach. I could see for miles. There was nobody in sight. I did a most un-British thing and took my trunks off. "When in Europe," I thought to myself. Then a tremendous sea fog rolled in; not only could I not see the sun; not only could I not see that the beach was still empty; I could barely see that I was still starkers. "This is god's way of telling me to put my Speedos back on," I thought to myself. So I did.

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The fog did not help my washing to dry. In the end, I had to buy a token for the dryer. It cost €3.50, which is almost as much as a night on the campsite.

I've been trying to remember where Trafalgar is. It must be around here somewhere. (Not Trafalgar Square, I realised I would have to make that clear.) Bit embarrassing for a History graduate and a son of Nelson Country, as Norfolk is re-branding itself.

[Note to self: do you think the Internet might have the answer?]

I also spent some time wondering why, when I was talking to Vitor, the driving instructor, I didn't raise the thorny question of how terrible Portuguese drivers are. Against that golden opportunity, I considered that it might have spoiled our date if he'd taken umbrage at this slur on his profession.

I re-read this entry and conclude I need to get out more.

I go to 'bed' in the tent, to the sound of the surf crashing in from the deep, dark Atlantic. It's another clear night after the fog, and the Milky Way is visible here as I've rarely seen it in Europe.

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