Travellers’ tales. Figueira day 2.

We walked to one of our favourite restaurants for lunch yesterday, O Cais Do Heleno, quite a distance from the tourist centre of town but worth the walk. They don’t have a printed menu as such but a list of possibilities on a chalk board outside. It seems to depend on what fish has been available on a particular day. We discovered it by accident years ago and were very impressed. We just keep going back. More folk must have discovered it as yesterday it was very crowded and Phil’s first choice of fish was not available. They had run out, a good sign that the fish is fresh and not kept in the freezer, I suppose.

We did our usual thing of Phil ordering a fish dish 

of which very little was left at the end

while I ordered a mixed salad 

and we just shared everything. Past experience tells us that two main meals are too much for us.

In some review that Phil found about Figueira da Foz O Cais Do Heleno was rated at about number 50 in the restaurants. How very odd: we would put it in the top five. Perhaps it’s the result of its out of town location. Who knows?

Later in the day we were invited to attend the chess tournament opening ceremony at the rather prestigious Assembleia Figueirense. 5.30 we were told, but when we arrived, shortly before that time, things were underway. I think that all we missed was a long speech in Portuguese , most of which would have  gone over our heads. We were treated to a pianist playing music from well-known films, accompanied by silent clips from the films. Impressive! 

Then came a Portuguese musical group, curiously dressed in tartan for some reason but not the least bit Scottish with their traditional portuguese instruments. They played and sang a medley of Portuguese and international tunes, including “My Way”. They finished with a song dedicated to Figueira, maybe written by one of the poets whose works adorn the walls and ceilings of our hotel.

After all that we were encouraged to partake  of some refreshments - a glass of wine and some nibbles. The Portuguese know how to do things in style!

This morning is cloudy but fine. At 9.00 the temperature was already heading towards 20°. Provided it doesn’t rain on us, we won’t complain.

As I ran along the boardwalks I spotted someone clearly camping on the beach. Is that allowed here?

I have commented on more than one occasion about bikes and scooters on pavements. Well, in Philadelphia it seems that have the added problem of food delivery robots, which can legally be regarded as pedestrians. Such is the modern age! Here is a link to an article about a retired professor who is carrying out a possibly one-woman campaign against them by simply standing in their way and not allowing them through. The poor robots become confused and return to their depot. As well as the nuisance factor or robots trundling along the pavement, trying to look cute and appealing, there is, of course, the fact that they are taking jobs away from people. Delivery people may well be overworked, underpaid and on zero-hours contracts but for some people it is their only oprion for work. AI must not be allowed to take over our lives! We must control technology.

Here’s an aurumn leaves cartoon, by the way. Enjoy the fallen leaves,

Life goes pn. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Travellers tales - Figueira Day 1.

 In the middle evening yesterday we took ourselves out finally for something to eat. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast at some ungodly hour so we were more than a little hungry. As it was quite late we didn’t wander for too long but went to a place we know from previous visits, O Picadeiro, aka The Glass Box, as it’s terrace os literally just that.

We had a perfectly acceptable sopa de mariscos, not the best seafood soup we’ve ever had but perfectly acceptable.

Then Phil went for an old favourite, ovos rotos, borken eggs, basically egg and chips with some serrano ham but this time it also had prawns. An interesting addition.

I chose some small cod fishcakes, tasty but almost too much even for a hungry me. And a glass of white wine! All good! No room for dessert.

We night have gone for a late night digestive stroll along the sea front but when we left the restaurant torrential rain was falling. Nothing for it but to scuttle back to the hotel under a small umbrella, hoping not to get too wet.

This morning the rain had gone. The place is washed clean. We are keeping our fingers crossed that the rain stays away.

I made myself get up and go for a run down the seafront. I saw a number of people on those little motorised scooters. And there’s a stand of rentable bikes on the promenade as well. This is quite a good place for bikes as it’s fairly flat and maybe the rented bikes don’t get left around making a nuisance of themselves as they do in big cities. Here’s a link to an article about measures being taken in some places to prevent rented bikes blocking pavements.

Here’s a cartoon comment on American stuff.

Time for breakfast.

Later today we’ll go exploring.

LIfe goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone! 

The trials and tribulations of travellers!

Friday - up at the crack of dawn to organise last minute checking of our suitcases and to have a quick breakfast before a taxi arrived shortly after 9 tp take us to Liverpool’s John Lennon Airport. Goodness! I remember when that was just Speke!

Our travel to the airport was uneventful. We got through security without too much hassle. The metal buttons and tags on my dungarees seemed to provoke a major scan of all my limbs. And Phil’s suitcase had to go through the scanning machine twice - maybe it was the computer cables! But no real problem.

We almost ended up in the non-priority boarding queue because of lack of signposting but we sorted that out in time. There’s never enough space for your legs on RyanAir flights but that’s how it is. And we read and snoozed our way to Porto, arriving perhaps ten minutes ahead of schedule, leading to a RyanAir self-congratulatory fanfare. 

We had arrived in Portugal … but only at the airport! Then the fun began!

Because of biometric checking of all passengers from outside the Schengen area - fingerprints, photo, iris-check - we stood in a queue for about an hour and a half before getting through passport control! Such fun! A fellow passenger, who seemed no younger than we are, suggested that perhaps we (but clearly not him) should have been allowed to go through ‘priority passengers’ passport control. After all, older people get cheap travel,on trains in Portugal! I don’t actually think passport control works that way! And when did we suddenly look old enough for that advice?

Anyway, we made it through eventually. We had a lift waiting for us, a charming young woman called Andrea. She had been so concerned when passengers from the flight which had arrived early took so long to appear that she had contacted the chess tournament organiser. He then phoned us. All was sorted in the end!

And so here we are once again in Figueira da Foz, a nice place in Portugal.phil will play chess. I will play tourist. We’ll meet some old friends and have some good meals.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Remember, remember the Fifth of November!

 The falling leaves have converted muddy footpaths into yellow-leaf roads.

It’s Bonfire Night but some people seem intent on continuing to celebrate Hallowe’en. Each day their display has been slightly different with the spider and the skeleton slowly descending!

It’s Bonfire Night! 

When our children were young we used to organise a bonfire at the bottom of the garden and invite friends and family to join us. Treacle toffee, parkin and baked potatoes. My brother would usually arrive with the sort of firework that advised standing 50 yards away from it! Rather hard to do in our garden. But a good time was had by all!

When I was a child we used to make a Guy to burn on the bonfire, a manikin made of old clothes and with a frightening mask. Kids would drag their guys around calling out “Penny for the Guy!”. My father, however, would not let us do that. His children were not going to beg on the streets!

Mischief Night - November 4th - when rascals went playing tricks and making a lot of noise, seems to have been replaced by Hallowe’en. And cob coaling has also disappeared. The internet tells us:

“Cob coaling, cob-a-coaling or cob calling was a traditional  Bonfire Night custom practiced in the Yorkshire-Lancashire border region, which involved groups of people going door-to-door and singing a song in return for Bonfire Night supplies. In more recent times, singers collected firewood and money for fireworks, but "coaling" refers to the coal that would previously have been collected. The Cob Coaling Song is listed as number 9234 in the Roud Folk Song index.

History

The song was probably part of a medieval mummer’s play before being adapted to modern Bonfire Night traditions.The practice of cob coaling has parallels in other festive door-to-door begging traditions such as wassailing and souling.

Cob coaling was popular as recently as the 1970s, but probably died out some time in the 1980s.”

Here is one version of the song:

“We come a Cob-coaling for Bonfire time,

Your coal and your money we hope to enjoy.

Fal-a-dee, fal-a-die, fal-a-diddly-i-do-day.

For down in yon’ cellar there’s an owd umberella

And up on yon’ corner there’s an owd pepperpot.

Pepperpot! Pepperpot! Morning ’till night.

If you give us nowt, we’ll steal nowt and bid you good night.

Up a ladder, down a wall, a cob o’coal would save us all.

If you don’t have a penny a ha’penny will do,

If you don’t have a ha’penny, then God bless you.

We knock at your knocker and ring at your bell

To see what you’ll give us for singing so well.”

Enjoy the fireworks!

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

An odd Wednesday!

Well, it’s been a funny sort of day. Weatherwise it began beautifully and stayed that way all day.

It must have been a funny day for Donald Trump too with the result he didn’t want in the midterms. We’ll have to see how that pans out.

I seem to have spent today running round organising things for going away to Portugal on Friday. Packing to come home is always easier than packing to go away. All the decisions you need to make about what to take and what to leave behind. We always travel hand-luggage only and so it’s a juggling act to fit what you want to take within the weight limit.

Today’s organising was complicated by Phil having a chess match this evening. Our daughter volunteered to give him a lift but this then involved feeding pizza to two hungry grandchildren. And now I’ll need to replenish the supplies of pizza as they will be around again tomorrow after I collect them from school. 

I have been commissioned to make an apple crumble too. I may have already mentioned that a friend of my daughter’s promised us some baking apples and turned up with a huge bagful. I have passed some on to the nextdoor neighbour and to Granddaughter Number One but there is still a carefully stored box of them waiting for my return from Portugal.

My daughter promised her friend a crumble in return, volunteering me to bake it. That will be tomorrow morning’s job, I think.

In the meantime, here’s a cartoon commenting on hacking!

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Apologies and reparations. Another word of the year! Canal history.

 Apologies and reparations seem to be the thing at the moment. The King and the Prime Minister are both in the Bahamas and there’s a lot of talk about slavery. We should apologise and pay large amounts of money in reparation.

So here’s a Ben Jennings cartoon on slavery reparations.

I read that the Prime Minister plans to ask countries affected by the Uk’s role in slavery to help form our country’s apology.  And he has approved £40m in aid funding for the Caribbean

The former Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, says that making slavery reparations would be ‘a vast unjust fine on the British people”. 

“You may be able to fine individual people for their conduct, but not everyone for their nationality,” states Mr Welby. And as he points out, most of us did not get rich on the proceeds of slavery. Indeed some of the people whose taxes and so on would help pay the reparations are in fact descended from slaves. We need to hold up our hands and accept responsibility for stuff that went on in the past but the whole issue is very complicated. 

The King, by the way, found time to dance and play bells in a parade and the Prime Minister managed to play cricket. Serious stuff!

I’ve found another “word of the year”, this time selected by Collins English Dictionary. The word is “mogging” which apparently means outperforming or outshining someone or something. It is said to originate from “Amog” - alpha male in the group - a word that first appeared in bodybuilding culture around 2016. It’s now gone into everyday slang: “Teenagers mog elite athletes, a new video game mogs an old favourite, and your friend’s sourdough mogs the loaf you spent all weekend proving, Basically, if someone or something has made you look a bit rubbish by comparison, you’ve been mogged.”

Who knew? I am completely out of touch with the world of slang. I must consult the grandchildren.

Michael Rosen posted something from Rural Historia:

“Imagine having to move a canal boat through a dark tunnel using nothing but your legs.

This was known as “legging” — a method used to propel boats through canal tunnels and water-filled adits before motorised boats became common.

Many early canal tunnels were built without towpaths because adding one would have required a much wider tunnel, making construction considerably more expensive.

That created a problem: once the tow horse was detached, how did you get the boat through?

The answer was legging.

Crewmen would lie on their backs or sides on planks fitted to the boat and literally “walk” along the tunnel wall or roof with their feet, pushing the boat slowly forward through the darkness.

It was hard, awkward and exhausting work, but for many years it was one of the few practical ways of getting an unpowered boat through a long tunnel.

A wonderfully simple solution to a very expensive engineering problem.”

I’ve heard of this before as Standedge Tunnel is not far from here in Marsden. I think it’s even possible to take boatbtrips along the canal and through the the rather impressive tunnel.

Thw first comment on Michael Rosen’s post was this’

“If I remember correctly, the canal owners did not wish their tunnel walls and roofs to be damaged by the clogs of the boatmen, so often insisted that their clogs were wrapped in bits of cloth to give some protection to the brickwork/stonework.

Hence the origin of the term “toe-rag”..”

Interesting stuff.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone.