Where's Bertie? He's still at the huge Aire at Villa Real.
Weather: Not a cloud seen all day, with the temperature making it up to 20 degrees this afternoon.
As I ran south along the river this morning, I noticed six men, all staring up at a large tree. Higher up the trunk was a rope, which was connected to the towing-ball on a small pick-up type truck.
I ran on, firstly over cobbles, then onto a dirt track through woodland, then onto a tarmac cycleway. When the tarmac abruptly ended at a beach, I shunned filling my shoes with sand, instead swinging around to find my way back to the cobbles, thence back along the river.
Five of the six men were now pushing against the trunk of the tree (this was no sappling - it was a very substantial specimen) with the sixth weilding a chainsaw. I quickly diverted from the footpath, onto the grass to give the work a wide berth. A good job I did, as just as I passed, down it came, not in the direction of the rope joining the trunk to the pick-up truck, and fortunately not in the direction of the five men pushing against it, but in the direction of the pavement. There were no cones, no 'do not cross' tape, no warning signs and not a single bit of personal protective equipment being worn by the workmen. Along with France and Spain, I think safety at work standards may be a little more relaxed in Portugal than in the UK...
Today being the fourteenth day of our trip, it was early to be seeking out a laundrette, but as there was one just a minute's walk along the road, and as I was feeling too lazy to handwash my running gear (I probably shouldn't confess that I've been wearing it for two weeks without washing it; it was ready to run off by itself) we made use of it. Sitting there waiting for the machines to do their thing, we concluded that as well as having two large riverside areas full of motorhomes (mainly French, with a good smattering of Dutch, with Germans, Swedes and Brits being a small minority) the enterprising owners of this Aire decided that motorhomers need laundry facilities, and thus have established the laundrette across the road. Alongside the washers and dryers, there's a vending machine selling various toilet fluids, spare toilet cassette caps and other useful motorhomey things.
The only other activity today has been a walk into and around the town (an impulse purchase of a coffee pot and an intentional purchase of a new corkscrew whilst we were there). The most notable thing about that outing was the contrast between those of us (presumably all tourists from much further north) wearing shorts, t-shirts and sandals, and those (presumably locals, for whom it is still winter) wearing big coats.
Weather: Not a cloud seen all day, with the temperature making it up to 20 degrees this afternoon.
As I ran south along the river this morning, I noticed six men, all staring up at a large tree. Higher up the trunk was a rope, which was connected to the towing-ball on a small pick-up type truck.
I ran on, firstly over cobbles, then onto a dirt track through woodland, then onto a tarmac cycleway. When the tarmac abruptly ended at a beach, I shunned filling my shoes with sand, instead swinging around to find my way back to the cobbles, thence back along the river.
Five of the six men were now pushing against the trunk of the tree (this was no sappling - it was a very substantial specimen) with the sixth weilding a chainsaw. I quickly diverted from the footpath, onto the grass to give the work a wide berth. A good job I did, as just as I passed, down it came, not in the direction of the rope joining the trunk to the pick-up truck, and fortunately not in the direction of the five men pushing against it, but in the direction of the pavement. There were no cones, no 'do not cross' tape, no warning signs and not a single bit of personal protective equipment being worn by the workmen. Along with France and Spain, I think safety at work standards may be a little more relaxed in Portugal than in the UK...
Today being the fourteenth day of our trip, it was early to be seeking out a laundrette, but as there was one just a minute's walk along the road, and as I was feeling too lazy to handwash my running gear (I probably shouldn't confess that I've been wearing it for two weeks without washing it; it was ready to run off by itself) we made use of it. Sitting there waiting for the machines to do their thing, we concluded that as well as having two large riverside areas full of motorhomes (mainly French, with a good smattering of Dutch, with Germans, Swedes and Brits being a small minority) the enterprising owners of this Aire decided that motorhomers need laundry facilities, and thus have established the laundrette across the road. Alongside the washers and dryers, there's a vending machine selling various toilet fluids, spare toilet cassette caps and other useful motorhomey things.
The only other activity today has been a walk into and around the town (an impulse purchase of a coffee pot and an intentional purchase of a new corkscrew whilst we were there). The most notable thing about that outing was the contrast between those of us (presumably all tourists from much further north) wearing shorts, t-shirts and sandals, and those (presumably locals, for whom it is still winter) wearing big coats.
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