After leaving the anchorage we headed off overnight for Porto. The 70 mile trip was just an overnighter and after motoring all night due to no wind we arrived before the marina staff were up and about. After a bit of hanging about we parked up and took Franco for a nice walk, some coffee and the rather scummy pastel de nata.
After our late breakfast we had a snooze as we had read that’s what retired people do. Following the retirement guide to the letter, after the snooze we then hid in the shade until early evening drinking beer and moaning about the heat.
When it cooled down enough to take Franco out we made our way to the local restaurants and decided we were going to try Portuguese Sardines again. More importantly though, this time we were determined to enjoy them. My mother has raved about Portuguese Sardines for years, saying to anyone who will listen to her, they are the best food she has ever eaten. We have repeatedly tried to eat Sardines, and have eaten many in Portugal, but to be honest, I think they taste a bit shite. Fishy, boney shite.
So we ordered the fresh sardines and watched them being grilled on the open coals less than 20 feet from where they were landed. The only way they could have been any fresher is if they had swum up to the table. And for the love of God I swear, those sodding sardines still tasted like shite. Franco didn’t object though and polished off the lot. Heads, bones and all. This decision we regretted a few hours later when he let rip the most malodourous dog farts ever. So we decided to put the sardines and dog farts behind us and continue with more pressing matters. Like topping up the port stash.
The next morning After a rather long and hot walk to the cellar we then decided to refresh ourselves, not with water but with port. That famous drink used to rehydrate people. We thus proceeded to get totally smashed again while drinking all the samples. This resulted in an obscene number of purchases with a couple of freebies thrown in for good measure. One taxi drive back we loaded up the bottles and slept off the shop.
The next morning we waited for the mist to lift and headed off for Cascais. Fully provisioned. Sans sodding sardines.