So, here we are, last day of the tournament in Figueira. I sit here in the area just outside the playing room waiting for the main organiser to turn up so that I can find out what the arrangements are for our getting to the airport to return home. Will I have to rush back to the hotel and pack our suitcases for a departure later today? This will involve going online to book a room at Porto airport hotel. Or can we be more leisurely and depart tomorrow morning, arriving at the airport in time for our flight? And for once our cheerful organiser is not around. No doubt all will be sorted. I am assuming tomorrow is departure day. Surely he would have told me if it were otherwise.
Our hotel has been eccentric in its way. There’s the lift, whose odd instructions I have already documented, which is exceedingly slow and which occasionally takes you to floor -1 when you press the button for floor 1. It then sits on the basement, doors closed, not moving, until you press the button for floor 1 again.
And then there are the door keys. Now, I am old enough to remember when you had to make a special request for a room with a bath or shower. En suite was not a term that was used much. Besides you had to book your room by letter or fax or telephone. I remember one room in particular with a washbasin, an elegant retro-style washbasin, in the corner. Unfortunately it was not plumbed into anything! Elegantly decorative, that’s all. I remember rooms with keys attached to great wooden fobs so tha you would not forget to hand in your key at reception whenever you went out anywhere. Nowadays keys are usually like credit cards, to be swiped or sometimes just shown to the mechanism in the door. Unfortunately, the system in our hotel is faulty, to say the least. Almost every day we have had to return to reception, having tried unsuccessfully to access our room. Sometimes we have done this twice a day. On one famous occasion the key was fixed, I received the obligatory advice not to put the card near my mobile phone as that would deprogramme the card, I went up one flight of stairs, tried the key in the door … and failed to get into the room. Travellers’ tales!!
Now, one of those things on Facebook that I usually avoid like the plague is “the stupid question”. Usually it’s something inane about which is better, tea or coffee? Sometimes it’s clearly geared so that advertisers can bombard you specific publicity. And as a rule they have tens of thousands of replies … all the more reason to ignore them. My Spanish sister is a frequent responder.
Yesterday’s was “What do you need first thing in the morning?” My cousin, who I swear responds to every single one of these inane questions said, “a cup of tea”. I was sorely tempted to put in a reply to the effect that I need to go to the loo but I controlled myself and instead decided to take a quick look to see if anyone had had the same impulse. Too many replies to read them all, of course. Nobody I saw needed a wee but loads needed Jesus, needed to thank the Lord for waking them up, needed to commune with their maker! Wowsers! Who knew there were so many religious folk out there?
Well, our organiser friend has still not shown up. I shall return to the hotel where I have internet access and can post this. Then I’ll take a last stroll along the beach. Maybe after that he will have arrived.
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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