For a Few Donuts More

Hat, Marks & Spencer. Blanket, stolen from the shoulders of a beautiful young bride. Jowls, model's own.

We went back to the Algarve for the weekend! Well ridiculously enough, not even the whole weekend, more like just over 24 hours...

If we were super-prepared, everything-planned type people, we'd have had our holiday around our friend's wedding that we knew about like six months ago. Instead, we had serious deja vu from arriving back in Faro a few weeks after we were last there. First world problems, environment-destroying privileged moaners that we are.

We flew out on Friday on easyjet. Woah! It was all going smoothly till we got to the gate and realised that we had two hen parties, a stag party and 22 rugby players on tour to share the next two and a half hours with. The gods made up for it by putting us on the front row, so not standard easyjet legroom and not in the middle of a drunken crowd. But we did get to watch the drunken crowd in near continuous queue for the toilet. And the drunken ramblings of a rugby playing "gentleman" chatting up every woman who came within a yard of him.

We got in for the last half-hour of dinner (we were staying an hour's drive from the airport) and then collapsed into bed. I was glad to find that we didn't need to be at the villa for the wedding until 2.30pm so I had some time to wander around and find a supermarket for a little picnic lunch in the sunshine.

Then it was into the whirlwind. The directions on the invitation didn't include the name or number of the house, so we took a very worried taxi driver up a dirt track and then dithered about whether it could be the right place. It was a small but energetic wedding. And the sun was shining beautifully all day with a light breeze keeping us from over-heating. But when the sun disappeared over the hill behind the villa we were left with the breeze and for some reason I hadn't even thought about bringing any more layers. So I was left with this fetching neon-pink blanket courtesy of the very kind bride.

There was little or no signal at this cliff-top villa so we had to walk back down the hill (Mrs Davis in heels) to call a taxi back to the hotel. Frozen and full of vol-au-vents we rolled into our apartment for a cup of instant coffee before bed.

Breakfast was in two courses. One while packing and the other for the ten minutes we had airside before our flight. We had a great taxi driver back, but I think he was more intent on showing us how beautiful the local countryside is than getting us to the airport on time.

Before you know it, we were on the plane. This time less leg room, but squished between a party of ageing golfers. I managed to nap for half an hour but otherwise it felt like the longest couple of hours I've had in a long time.

So now, suddenly it's back home, back to work, no more trips planned for the foreseeable. But who knows what could pop up this week and surprise us?