Diary of a Harvest Festival

You might remember, if you follow my blog, that way back in March, I wrote a post about an idea I had for harvest, and I promised to let you know what happened. Here is a brief diary of events:

March: I read about the origins of our harvest festival in Leviticus, and was challenged by my apathy towards the festival. Had a clear idea of how the weekend might be planned. Decided to wait and see if idea faded or grew.

Next Sunday: As I sat in my church, I could clearly see how it might be decorated and arranged for a large family supper. Began to feel rather excited. My idea/vision was not fading.

Few Weeks later: A Missions Team Meeting – I shared my idea with the rest of the team, and was given permission from Rev P to start planning the event. He said he would arrange the Sunday bit. (This caused me some angst – what if he got the Sunday bit wrong? I am a control-freak.)

April: I chatted to J and C in church, and they agreed to help me plan the event. We met one evening, and I splurged out my ideas. They then discussed what they thought would work, and what should be dropped, and generally improved on my basic thoughts.

One idea which they modified was my “Thank you table,” which they thought had too much potential for precious items being lost/spoiled. They suggested instead a “thank you tree,” where people could write their thanks on autumn leaves, and attach them to the tree.

They also said there was too much for one evening, and they didn’t think my ‘sacrifice table’ would work, so we dropped that idea.

May/June: We met a few times. C planned some attractive fliers, which we could use to advertise the event. She also booked the church rooms for the evenings we needed them, and managed to book DJ to do the demonstration (which was brilliant news).

Rev P let us know that all the families I’d hoped would return had accepted the invitation. Very exciting!

We split the event, so each of us was leading a specific area: C would arrange the flower arranging demo on the Thursday evening. J would head-up a team to decorate the sanctuary ready for the meal/service. I would organise the catering.

July: We finalised the design for the fliers, setting the times for when we thought the most people would be able to attend (needed to juggle people who work on Saturdays with those families who are on an early clock). J told us the ‘thank you tree’ was under control, and she had ordered some rather smart autumn leaves. We discussed whether to have a flower demo followed by a workshop, or whether to split that over two evenings. We then realised we were suggesting people came Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday to harvest events, and this might be too much for most people. Decided to drop the Friday workshop, and instead decorate the church Saturday morning.

We started to announce our plans in church, giving people advance notice. Husband told me my announcements were mainly confusing (always get very honest feedback from family).

We spent an evening at the church measuring tables and rooms, deciding on the layout of the tables. We would have the demo in the back hall, and use the sanctuary (which is a lovely space) for the meal, arranging the tables as for a banquet – trying to give the impression of one big table (like a big family meal), even though the space only allowed for 3 separate tables.

The supper is a ‘Bring and Share’ supper. People will arrive, and sit at the table with their dish, which they will eat, and share with those around them. This means people with allergies/food preferences won’t worry about the food. It also eliminates the long queue of people waiting to go to the food table (and the need for there to be space for people carrying plates of food). It also means that people who have spent 3 hours cooking something delicious don’t arrive at the table to find only a cold burger and a hard baked-potato.

August: We all went on holiday and thought no more about it.

September: Returned from holidays, life became very busy with work/ill parents/health/start of all the church groups, and I began to wonder if harvest was all a big mistake. Very stressed. This was made even worse by reaching the part in my book where there is a barn dance, so I was also planning that (even though it wasn’t real). My head was full of how much a band costs (not real), how many people we could seat in the church (real), what food to serve (both real and not real). All got very confusing.

(Note: You may wonder, why— when I was busy planning an event— was I also trying to plan a virtual event for a book? The thing is, if authors are not disciplined, and keep writing, even when life ‘gets in the way’, then books are never finished. As in, never. I meet so many people who have been writing a book for about 25 years, and never finished it. To write a book, you have to write; you cannot wait until there is a ‘good time’ because there never is.)

Fliers were printed and distributed. Friends were invited. J arranged a team to help decorate. I tried to find people to help me cater, and printed off a quiz, so people who felt shy/bored had something to do at the tables.

The team has grown. We have someone who will wash all the white cloths we use at Lunch Club and return them to church for the Saturday. People setting up games in the hall for the children/young people to use during the meal. Someone collecting and returning wine glasses (borrowed from Waitrose). Someone sourcing some autumnal napkins. A team who will help decorate. People who will help set up tables and move furniture before and after the meal, and so on. I am beginning to feel excited.

One Week Before: Ordered food from Morrisons (15 stick loaves and 6 gammons) and bought drinks. I also cooked some dishes, and froze them, ready for next week. Other people in the church began to plan/buy/cook what they would bring.

Wednesday, day before the flower demo: C phoned to say our demonstrator had pulled out and could no longer come. I was flummoxed. Now what? We couldn’t even let most people know the event was cancelled, as we didn’t know who would have seen our advertising.

Son suggested I went to local florists and tried to find a replacement.

Chatted to C and we decided that I would pray, she could contact DJ and try to persuade him to still come. I wasn’t sure what to do if this failed.

Wednesday afternoon: C phoned and said DJ had agreed to still come (I think there had been a misunderstanding, which C had now sorted). Phew!

Thursday 6pm: Arrived at church, just as C and DJ were leaving, having set up his display tables. J arrived, and we set up chairs, refreshments, a place where I could give a 3 minute Tearfund talk (we were collecting donations for Tearfund at all 3 events). J had made mini chocolate brownies, sausages coated with herbs and honey, and tiny feta and olive pastries. I brought wine and soft drinks, J brought glasses.

Thursday 7–9pm: DJ gave a brilliant talk and flower demo. About 20 people attended (which was disappointing, as I’d hoped for more). The evening seemed a happy one. We raised about £35 for Tearfund.

Friday: Lunch Club. A last chance to advertise the event. Afterwards, on my way home, I bought food, so there would be enough at the meal for our guests (17 people, who were invited to come but who wouldn’t be bringing food as they were travelling a distance). When I got home, I picked some flowers and fruit for the display.

Friday evening: Popped into church to check: kitchen was clean, there was a supply of toilet rolls, I filled freezer with ice-creams. The stage was heaped with beautiful flowers and vegetables which people had grown and donated.

Saturday morning: I arrived at church to help decorate. People were already there, making the sanctuary look beautiful. Someone had also set up the back hall, with games for teenagers and toys for children. It looked fabulous already!
We set up tables (there was some discussion, as to whether to change the planned design, but eventually they were set up as planned, with a sort of ‘mini top-table’ to visually link the tables – wasn’t sure who would feel comfortable sitting there though). We had 85 people signed up to come, and finding enough cutlery/water glasses/serving spoons was a challenge. We ran out of knives, and had to use plastic ones. (I should’ve counted all the cutlery beforehand.)

The church began to look beautiful. Inspired by the Thursday demo, I decided to have a go at an arrangement with the stuff I’d brought. The last flower arrangement I attempted, my mum rearranged when she saw it. People were very polite about my attempts (but I could see in their eyes that they were lying). Then D, who is so sweet, said I had started a really lovely shape, and she had some flowers left over, how would I feel if she added to my arrangement? She then added flowers and foliage, and made it look amazing. I decided I would tell my family I had done it. Sent them a photo.

Left the church about 1pm. All looks exactly how I’d hoped. Very excited. Went home, sorted the animals, cooked lots of gammons, finished planning what I would do with the children on Sunday.

Saturday 6–8pm. People arrived (about 80 people) & everyone seemed to have enough to eat, the atmosphere was happy. I was busy, checking people had what they needed, washing up, passing wine, etc. At one point I glanced into the hall, and it was full of young people playing snooker and table-football and having a laugh. That warmed my heart. Another special thing was the ‘top table’, which I’d worried might remain empty, was full of little girls, who were clearly having a party!

Rev P did an entertaining and poignant talk, which fitted perfectly.

Cleared up. Lots of people helped, which was great. I got really tired, and at one point needed to rest my brain from all the noise, so sat in the car for a few minutes. Felt seriously exhausted – in the end decided to leave some of the washing up and do it on Sunday. Went home.

Sunday: When I went into the church kitchen, to sort out the dirty dishes I’d left, someone had already done them, and everything was clean and tidy.

Church was nicely full, and looked lovely.

D and I took the older children during the service. We had 13 young people, ranging from 7yrs old to 15yrs, in a fairly small room. It was a great hour. Many of them knew each other from before they’d moved away, so they were happy just to be there. At one point, one of them stared at the 7 year old, and said: “Is she the baby who used to smile at everyone?” (She was!) It was so nice to be there, in a sort of slightly disorganised family atmosphere. I did a short talk, then we played a variety of Pictionary/Jenga/Consequences games, the kids in teams of mixed ages. Happy morning.

Went downstairs after the service ended (a few minutes late, as the young people wanted to finish what we were doing). The atmosphere was very happy, people smiling, hugging, chatting. I tried to chat, but I was very tired, so I’m not sure I made much sense.

So, was it worth it? Well, yes, I think so. Afterwards, several people have contacted me, and although their comments aren’t intended for a public blog, I know that God did bless the events, he did speak to people. (Plus we raised about £1,500 for Tearfund.)

Harvest is about remembering what God has done in the past, what he has given to us, so that we don’t forget when times are tough. I think we managed to do this, our church was reminded that God has blessed us, that church is still a family and a good place to be. The work before and after was actually a crucial part of this – a group of people sitting together and making table decorations was as essential as the words said from the front. Church is God’s family, and I am happy to belong.

Have a great week, and I’ll write again next week (I want to tell you about an old book, written in 1600s – I bet they didn’t have trouble with publishers in those days!)

Love, Anne x

Thank you for reading.

Anne E. Thompson has written several novels. They are available from bookshops and Amazon.
You can follow her blog at:
anneethompson.com
Why not sign up to follow today?

If you want to read my post, written way back in March, the link is below:

Harvest Thoughts (yep, I do know it’s only March!)

Just Life

Posted by anneethompson

Hi, how’re you? Yesterday I had a grotty night, and woke up feeling snotty. I hate colds, don’t you? I know in terms of illnesses, they are very minor, but they don’t feel minor, they feel rotten. I gave myself an easy day.

On Friday (before I was ill) it was my turn to cook. Several of the staff were away, and a few have retired, so I had to be very well-prepared, and it was all quite hard work. While I was peeling potatoes, one of the team members came to chat to me. Most of the team are older than me, so I love hearing their stories. He was talking about the war, and he said that one of his friends was in the marines and belonged to the ‘special forces’ (whatever that might mean). Apparently, before they went on a mission, they were given drugs, so they could stay awake for ages, and wouldn’t feel frightened, even though they were going into extremely dangerous situations. He thought they were given heroin, but when I told my son, later, he said it was probably cocaine. I have no idea myself—I didn’t know such things happened in real life. When the marines returned, they went straight into hospital, where they had to stay for the week, until the drugs were out of their system.

I don’t know if this is true, or exaggerated. But it’s kind of interesting, don’t you think? I wonder if things like that happen today. War is always terrible; the rules change.

Anyway, I survived the cooking (without the need of narcotics) and the seniors survived eating it. They also survived the ‘keep-fit’ session we have introduced at the beginning. An ex-PE teacher came, and showed them some exercises they could do. Apparently, if you have arthritis, it’s very important to use your joints, otherwise they seize up.

My other news in brief: The chicks are growing fast. Each day I look, and try to guess whether they’ll be cockerels or hens. Cockerels have a very red crown, and thicker legs, and even at this age they tend to be very dominant. I think 4 of the 6 chicks are cockerels, which is very bad. Last time, only 2 of the 6 were, and they lived peacefully together for ages (until the fox got one). I’m not sure how four will fare, plus their dad. I may have to separate them, which will be a right pain. Do you know anyone who would like a very noisy pet?

I have also nearly finished the first draft of my new book (due to be published in June 2019, because the next part takes ages!) This book has been fun to write, as it’s a lighter read than my last two, and has some funny parts. As it’s set on a farm, I thought I would take some photos of the cows in the field next to the house. They are young steers (boys) and when I arrived they were all lying under a tree, which was no good for a photo. I climbed over the stile, and called to them, but they ignored me. So very gradually, keeping an eye on how far I was from the gate, I walked towards them, my camera poised. One stood up, but they didn’t come any closer. I was talking to them, trying to look as if I might have food, making general cow-like noises. Eventually they all began to stand, and then, as a single mass, they lumbered towards me, their great fat sides swaying from side to side. I didn’t want to be pushed over, so I retreated to the stile, and stood on it. They came right up to me, the flies buzzing round their eyes, their wet noses dripping, their tongues reaching out to touch me.

I took several photos, while they took it in turns to lick me, and press their noses against my jeans. I returned home very soggy, and smelling of cows. I like cows though, there is something uncomplicated about them. Don’t you think so?

Hope you have a good week, and don’t feel the need to be drugged (and also hope you manage to avoid having a runny nose—there are a lot about!)

Take care.
Love,
Anne x

Anne E. Thompson has written several novels. They are available from bookshops and Amazon.
You can follow her blog at:
anneethompson.com
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Listen With Your Eyes

Posted by anneethompson

Listening with your eyes

When you are an author, you are, in effect, a parasite of life. Every experience, every glimpse of people, is stored up, ready to use in a novel. Sometimes, when there’s time, it’s good to be able to simply notice. To walk through a crowd and store up memories. You don’t consciously decide that a stranger will be a psychopath, or that a young man will be a jilted lover, or the grandmother will be the wise woman in a story. But you notice, you listen with your eyes, and add to the store in your mind. So that when you are writing, perhaps months later, and you need a character, you have a whole bank of them, waiting, ready to be fleshed out with a personality and a backstory. It helps if you are alone, as chatty husbands can be something of a distraction. So when the family decided to build a sandcastle (yes, they are all adults) I didn’t object, and was happy to walk along the beach for a while.

Walk along a beach in the Algarve with me, and notice. The Muslim family, with the mother covered from head to toe in black, sitting, child on lap, laughing as the waves rush over them. The bronze grandmother, wearing not a stitch, her stretched breasts flopping as she walks. The young men in tight swimwear, throwing a ball between them on the hard sand; the pretty teenager, sucking in her tummy, posed to one side, hoping, desperately, that one of the men will notice her. The mother of twins, sagging tummy oozing over her bikini, not caring because the two boys toddling through the waves are her whole world. The English woman, with the sensible haircut, walking through the shallows, her whole body red with sunburn except for the two white lines she has exposed where her sun-top straps went. The young girl with the tiny bikini walking next to her muscle-bound lover, the twin peaches of her perfect bottom moving from side to side, perfect ovals beneath the tiny pants. The old man, in straw hat and baggy shorts, walking along the sand. The father laughing as his young son spits water, after being swamped by an unexpected wave. The mother wrapping her shivering daughter in a big towel when she returns from her swim. The couple under the big umbrella, on the striped mat, eating a tidy salad from a plastic container, before they return to their New York Times bestsellers. The girl collecting shells in a purple bucket. The boys digging a trench next to their sandcastle; and the young men; and the grandfathers; and the fathers—while their children, bored, have wandered away. The young father holding his podgy baby in the waves, while she lifts her legs and squeals at the cold. The pregnant woman walking with measured steps along the tide line, watching other people’s children playing, anticipating.

And then there are the sounds. The crashing of the surf as it hits the shingle. The crunch of footsteps as you walk. The roar, somewhere out to sea, of the speedboat. The chatter of language you don’t understand, and the wisps of English that float towards you as you pass. The shrill of seagulls from the cliff behind you, the cry from sellers as they stomp the sand, showing their wares.

You can feel the sun, hot on your head. The trickle of sweat on your back. The grate of shells prickling your feet, the cold as the sea rushes over your skin. And the breeze, that blessed cool, that glides in from the sea and makes it all bearable, pleasant even, as you watch, and listen, and absorb all the life surrounding you; hold it tight, because one day you might need it.

Thank you for reading.

Anne E. Thompson has written several novels. They are available from bookshops and Amazon.
You can follow her blog at:
anneethompson.com

The Runway with a Pedestrian Crossing

Posted by anneethompson

The Runway with a Pedestrian Crossing

If you’ve never flown to Gibraltar, it’s almost worth it for the airport alone. We initially arrived by car, from Spain, and were very surprised when we had to stop and wait for a plane to land. The road, and path, go right across the runway, and all traffic and pedestrians are stopped before the planes can land. Football matches in the nearby stadium also have to be paused, just in case a ball should escape and roll into the pathway of an incoming plane.

It is both bizarre, and rather wonderful. We weren’t there long enough to walk across it (my family were keener to see the wild monkeys) but it’s on my ‘one day’ list.

When we left Gibraltar, we managed to experience the little airport from the inside. I checked the Google ratings before we left, as I wanted to see if there were cafes. I was interested by the one-star ratings (they’re always the most interesting reviews to read, and often tell you more about the person writing it than the establishment being reviewed). Most of the one-star reviewers for Gibraltar airport were Spanish and based their rating on the belief that the airport was on land stolen from Spain, so shouldn’t exist anyway. (Not getting into the politics here, but am tempted to whisper the names of the cities in Morocco owned by Spain even though they are clearly within a different country.)

There was also however, an interesting review by someone who admitted that they had never actually landed in Gibraltar—as every time her flight had been diverted to Malaga. We investigated further, and discovered that unless the pilot can clearly see both ends of the runway, they will abort the landing and fly to Malaga. Which means of course that the aeroplane is then in the wrong place for the departing passengers and they all have to be bused to Spain. This caused a little consternation for Husband who tends to arrive at the airport 16 hours before the flight (just in case) as the family (all strangely strong-minded given their submissive parentage) were not easily persuaded to travel hours before the flight to a little airport which we could walk to in twenty minutes.

All was fine though. We arrived at the airport a couple of hours before the flight, and the check-in desk was actually open (a rare novelty for my family). There was then an excited few minutes when the boys spotted the price of the alcohol in the duty-free shop (I didn’t know it was even possible to buy Vodka in bottles that big!)

We walked from the airport to the plane. I was lucky enough to be sitting between chatty daughter and chatty husband, so it was quite difficult to finish reading my book. Daughter then looked at her holiday photos, and spent a happy hour deleting all the selfies that the boys had taken when she left her phone unlocked for a few minutes.

Final checks were done, the crew took their seats, and I concentrated hard on my book as we hurtled down the runway, trying to not think about all those cars and people who had been crossing a few minutes earlier, or about the length of the runway and the deep blue sea that was waiting at the end. Then we were up, Gibraltar was falling away behind us, and our holiday was finished. Thank you for sharing it with me.

Thank you for reading anneethompson.com

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If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

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The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary is available as both paperback and Kindle books.

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

Lisbon to the Algarve

Posted by anneethompson

Breakfast. Boys only 10 minutes late.

We did a quick trip to the supermarket. After the trip to E.coli Service Station, everyone is a bit sensitive about where our food is from. Bought a range of breads and crisps and plastic looking cheese slices. My bread rolls have a use-by date of Jan 2019, so I’m not convinced they have much that’s natural in them. But hopefully that includes bacteria.

Left the Sheraton, Lisbon, at 11:30. The resort in the Algarve only had a P.O. box address, so Husband looked on their website and entered the town name—Praia da Falesia—into the SatNav. All seemed fine.

After driving for about an hour, the SatNav directed us off the motorway. J checked, and said he thought it was probably avoiding the traffic queues which were ahead. The roads grew smaller and smaller. When we were directed down an unpaved road, we began to suspect something was wrong. Could the SatNav have been tampered with by a gang of criminals, who were waiting to rob and kill wealthy tourists they had led to remote Portugal? No. There is another Praia da Falesia, a farm, in the middle of nowhere.

We found a very long route back to the correct motorway (some of the roads needed tarmac, but Husband didn’t comment). We passed several trees, which we worked out were cork trees, as all the lower bark had been removed.

We stopped at services for petrol and washrooms (not food). There were many queues. Husband had to queue before he could fill with petrol, then fill the car, then queue again to pay. This took 20 minutes, Which meant the people 3 cars behind had an hour’s wait. Crazy system. The washrooms were awful—over used and under supplied.
J touched a remaining half-Twix which was bought at the food-poison services. Why? Why do we even have an E.coli-Twix in the car? Is this normal? We showered him in hand sanitiser.
I’m not sure what happened to the E.coli-Twix. Sometimes I block things.

We found Pine Cliffs Resort in Algarve. Had rather more trouble finding reception. Drove 47 loops of the resort. It looks very lovely, with white buildings and fountains and beautiful gardens. Shortage of useful signage though. Eventually we found the reception, and received the keys for our ‘villa’.

We are staying in Pine Cliffs Residences, which is a little flat with hotel services. We have 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a lounge/dining room, and a kitchen/utility room. They clean and change the towels and replenish the toiletries, just like in a hotel room. It’s pretty.
Unfortunately, it also has quite a lot of ants.

Family went to one of the swimming pools, Husband and I went to the Intermarche to buy food for lunches. And ant powder.

The resort has several restaurants, but they were very expensive (we were quoted €40 per person). A short walk away, there are several restaurants and a supermarket, so we used those. They were much cheaper, and still nice—in many ways they were better, as the resort is full of English people, and it was nice to eat in places that Portuguese tourists ate.

We had dinner in Ristorante Pizzeria S. Martino—a nice Italian restaurant with a good selection of pizzas. I had a nice gnocchi dinner, followed by a horrible marshmallow ice-cream (which tasted of bubble-gum).

Thank you for reading
anneethompson.com
Why not sign up to follow my blog?

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

A Day in Sintra

Posted by anneethompson

A Day in Sintra.

On a clear day, you can see Sintra from Lisbon. Husband suggested that we spent a day there, but a quick perusal of his guidebook, and we all declined, as it looked boring. The following morning at breakfast, M said his Portuguese friend had said we should definitely visit, and he’d checked on the internet, and it looked really interesting. He showed us exciting pictures of deep wells you could walk down, and fairy castles, and we all decided to go. Husband said very little.

Most online reports about Sintra said you shouldn’t drive, as there is nowhere to park and the walk to the palace is very steep. However, most online reports were written by tour companies, who earn their living transporting people to the palace, so we ignored them and drove. Parking in Sintra was something of a challenge, because although there was a massive car-park (where a person could lose their car for several days) there were not many spaces. As people returned to their cars, a man rushed to stand in the space, and his friend then guided arriving cars to that space and charged a fee. We managed to avoid both scammers and a fee, by following a returning parked pedestrian, and then parking in their spot.

R then led us down lots of hills, and then up the same hills, to Quinta da Regaleira. This had very pretty grottos and follies, and way too many tourists. The best thing was the Tower of Initiation, which was the deep well we’d seen in pictures. It looked better in the pictures than in real life.

I wore practical clothes/shoes for the trip. I avoided full-length photos. However, as our next task was to walk up a mountain, I was quite pleased I had worn my big trainers. We walked up (a lot of up) a narrow cobbled road, diving into bushes to avoid the coaches which filled the whole space, and tuk-tuks whizzing down, so you hoped the 10 year old driving had good brakes. I think these are the people who wrote those reports.

We reached the palace, and more long queues. There were queues to buy tickets, then queues to enter the grounds, followed by a super-long queue to enter the actual palace. To increase the challenge further, there were two queues to buy tickets—one to a ticket office and one to a machine. Quick family discussion to decide strategy (not my genes) then family split; satellite group going to machine queue, main group staying in line for ticket office. Can life get more exciting? (If you prefer a less exciting trip, you can save time and buy tickets online at home.)

The castle was amazing. Ferdinand Ⅱ built it as a summer palace for the royal family. He commissioned Eschwege, a German architect who was well travelled and wanted to incorporate lots of different elements. It has parts that show Islamic influence, as well as Medieval elements. He said he wanted it to be like an opera—and it sort of is. It was completed in 1854. The last queen of Portugal, Queen Amelia, spent her last night here before she fled to Brazil. It really is amazing—sort of Taj Mahal meets Disney.
However, there were too many people, and too many queues. Some rude people managed to push in and not queue (clear psychopathic tendencies) so I took their photographs.

The inside of the palace was pretty, but with so many visitors it reminded me of the slow shuffle through the Vatican, and it wasn’t as worth seeing. The best part is the outside.

There is lots more to do in the area, like the Castle of the Moors, and of course the palace gardens and Sintra itself. But we were tired by the time we’d seen inside the palace, so we returned to the hotel via about 25 different motorways (car has a weird SatNav).

A nice day, if somewhat exhausting. Thank you for reading.
Hope you have a nice week.
Love, Anne x

Thank you for reading anneethompson.com
Why not sign up to follow my blog?
Anne E. Thompson has written several novels, available from bookshops and Amazon.

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

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A Day in Lisbon

Posted by anneethompson

Lisbon in a Day (because everyone was ill for the other days!)

Everyone was better, so we caught a metro into the city. We walked through the old part of the city, saw some squares, found the castle. J couldn’t find a fridge magnet that matched his set. I couldn’t find a cork cushion cover. We did however, find a queue. We weren’t sure what the queue was for, but we’re British, we joined it. Turned out it was for the castle (8 euros) so all good.

The castle had great views of the city and very long lines for the washrooms.

We walked back along shiny cobbled streets, trying to not slip. Flat summer shoes are bit of a problem in Portugal, as they tend to have slippery soles, and most of the streets are shiny cobbles. Heels would be worse. I think the best footwear would be wellies really.

While waiting for our order to arrive, Factoid Boy explained that food cravings are actually due to the bacteria in the gut. So if, for example, you stop eating a food type (sugar) for 3 months, that bacteria (the sugar-eating bacteria) dies, and you don’t crave it anymore. This information enhanced our meal no end.

We went back to the hotel. The family swam in the pool, I did a quick Google search for postboxes in Porto. I can happily report that the sculpture where we posted our cards is also a real postbox.

Lisbon has interesting metro stations, with sayings and gargoyles on the ceilings and walls. You can recharge tickets when they have expired, which is cheaper than buying new ones.

We walked through Arco da Rua Augusta (a big archway) to Praça do Commercio (big square). Saw a little beach.

Walked to a very nice Italian restaurant—La Vita e Bella, on Rua da Prata. The Portuguese waiter said he preferred us to speak English rather than bad Portuguese, as it was easier to understand! We ordered a starter platter, which filled us up so we could hardly eat our main courses, and sangria (and then picked out all the ice because everyone is being very sensitive about tummy health!)

I got a migraine, due to eating meals at weird times. We went back on the metro, and a blind man got into our carriage, begging for money. He had this weird metallic stick and instrument, and walked up and down the carriage making loud metallic tapping noises to attract attention. Was possibly the worst noise for a migraine ever.

Thank you for reading. Tomorrow we plan to visit the palaces at Sintra. I will tell you about it in another post.

Thank you for reading
anneethompson.com
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Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her books in bookshops and on Amazon.

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

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Arrival in Lisbon

Posted by anneethompson

Left the Sheraton Porto after breakfast, and drove down to Lisbon. Husband had helpfully brought a supply of CDs to entertain us during the journey. There was no obvious CD player in the car.

We stopped en route at a service station. This was later to have great significance. It looked clean, so we decided the food hygiene would be okay, despite the rather disgusting toilets. Portugal has a lot of disgusting public toilets. In my travels, most countries have cleaner washrooms than England, but not Portugal—wear shoes and take your own paper, and try not to breathe in.

Arrived in Lisbon and booked into another Sheraton (Husband gets different perks with his travels too often with work card, so we like them). One perk is the use of the hotel lounge, so we dumped our bags and I sat in the lounge with the boys, drinking free beers (them, not me) whilst looking across the city. David and Rebecca went swimming.

We caught the metro into the city, and walked around. It seems grander than Porto, but not as pretty. We went to a burger and lobster place for dinner. In Portugal, the burgers don’t necessarily come with a bun.

M began to feel ill. Then J began to feel ill. I took them back to the hotel in a taxi, Husband and R caught the metro back. We all made it without incident. There then followed a terrible night for the rest of the family, and one of those days you would rather forget. They all had food poisoning—my bet is that it was from the service station, perhaps E.coli on the salad preparation area. I survived unscathed. Not sure if that was due to taking probiotics (I always take probiotics when we travel, because I have a naturally nervous stomach). It was such a shame.

I went into breakfast on my own the following morning. I took a book to read, for support. I am rereading JOANNA as I never read it after it was published—for fear of spotting mistakes I wouldn’t be able to change. (It really is, rather good!) The buffet was lovely—even better than the Porto hotel. But then I had one of those ‘car-park’ moments—I stood there, with my plate of food, and had absolutely no idea where my table was, and no tall boys to guide me back. Wandered around the dining room, trying to look as if I just fancied a stroll. Spotted my book on the table in the corner, and hurried back to my seat. I don’t think anyone noticed.

As the family were all too ill to leave the hotel, I set off on my own for the prison, which we could see from the lounge, and a park. (If I am honest, the prison interested me more than the park.) I found a building that looked like a church, and walked all round it, trying to find a way inside. Someone came out, so I went towards the door, but was shouted at by three policemen, so am guessing it wasn’t open to random tourists.

Walked through the park. There were Olympic wreaths atop tall pillars, and a fountain, and a view right down to the river. At the exact moment I went to take a photo of the fountain, it stopped running. Bizarre.

I made my way to the prison, unsure if it’s against the law to take photos of a prison wall. Next door is the court house, a huge building, with some very cool pictures in tiles all around it. They depict scenes from the Bible, and the scales of justice, and are not particularly friendly (but perhaps a courthouse is not meant to be friendly). As I walked around the outside, a man appeared, on a bike, with a backpack that was blaring very loud opera. He circled the courthouse a few times, the music fading and growing loud again as he passed me. It was very strange. Was he signalling to someone inside the prison? Was this a weird tourist attraction? Was he a security guard, surreptitiously spying on me? After about 6 loops of the courthouse, he cycled away.

I walked back to the hotel, but it had gone. Tried to find it on my phone, but the map had also gone. Sent text messages to the family, who told me to turn on data-roaming. Managed to find hotel.

Family were well enough to eat at a local Pizza Hut. It was surprisingly very nice. Especially the sangria.

Thank you for reading. I will post of more of my holiday diary soon. Take care.

Love,

Anne x

Thank you for reading
anneethompson.com
Why not sign up to follow my blog?
Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her books in bookshops and on Amazon.

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

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The UK link is here:

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Another Day in Porto

Posted by anneethompson

A terrible night’s sleep. Went down for a Sheraton breakfast, which was rather brilliant – it caters for all of us. I have fruit and pancakes, others have eggs, some people (no judgement) have fruit and pancakes and bacon and cheeses and eggs and pastries and salmon and mushrooms and…

Metro into Porto (hotel is really a business hotel, so although it’s comfortable, it’s a long way from the ‘touristy’ stuff). We walked past the postbox sculpture where we posted our postcards – have a sense of doom about those cards. Saw a shop which sold tins of sardines. Just tins of sardines. The tins were brightly coloured and dated, right back to the early 1900s (I am hoping the sardines inside did not also date back that far). They were intended as gifts, due to Portugal being a centre for sardines, but at 7 euro each, they were a bit too expensive a novelty for me. Shame, Mum likes sardines and her postcard is probably lost forever.

Pizza lunch in a café that had nice pizza, but no light in the ladies loo. As in, no light – not a missing bulb, there was no fitting; which with no window either made for an interesting experience.

Went on a ‘free’ walking tour (you pay whatever you feel the tour was worth, at the end). Met Pedro, our geographer-turned-tour-guide. He was interesting, with some good sarcastic humour, though not especially friendly. Part of the tour was to a student café, which is called – in Portuguese – ‘Head lice café’. Pedro can say “head lice” in 26 different languages. Useful skill.

We also saw two churches, built almost – but not quite – touching. The Catholic church doesn’t allow churches to have adjoining walls (why?) so between the two churches was a narrow house. This is possibly the inspiration for Sirius Black’s house in the Harry Potter stories, as J. K. Rowling lived in Porto for a while. We saw the queue of people waiting to pay to go in to the bookshop which is thought to have inspired her moving staircases, and the Diagon Alley shops. J. K. Rowling has clearly been good for Porto. So too, is Ryan Air, as apparently before they began cheap flights to Porto, no one ever visited the city. This might actually be true, because many of the nice restaurants were fully booked, and it was often hard to find somewhere to eat.

There are more tourists than the city is quite ready for. The prices are also low at the moment – how long before they catch up with demand, I wonder? Visit Porto soon, before it gets expensive; but book your meals before you go!

Pedro told us that there is still some poverty in Portugal, a remainder from the days when it was a dictatorship, and people were encouraged to have big families, little education, and mainly farm for a living. He said the statue of a blindfolded Lady Justice, with her folded scales, show how the law courts functioned under the regime. Portugal had a peaceful revolution, and it’s now a democracy. It is also very hot, and a 3 hour tour was slightly too long for me.

We went to McDonald’s to recover. It used to be the Imperial Restaurant, and has chandeliers and art nouveau decorations. It also has dirty tables and disgusting toilets, so I didn’t like it.

Metro back to the hotel.

Thank you for reading.

Our next stop is Lisbon. If you sign up to follow my blog, you won’t miss it.

Anne E. Thompson is an author of several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her work in bookshops and on Amazon.
Thank you for reading.
anneethompson.com

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

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Porto, Portugal: Family Holiday Diary 2018

Posted by anneethompson

Porto – Sunday

Woke 7am. Weather is cloudy—hope no one notices.

Metro into Porto. Wandered down to the river, which is very pretty. Crossed the bridge to Gaia after lunch. Eating here is very difficult, as all the restaurants seem to be fully booked or closed. Which then makes you wonder why the ones with vacancies have vacancies.

On the bridge a young man was standing on the balustrade, wearing swimwear, waiting to jump. Gradually, a crowd gathered, waiting to watch. Would he plummet to his death? Be run down by one of the large pleasure boats passing beneath the bridge? Or dive spectacularly and emerge on the bank? I think none of the above. When a fairly large crowd had gathered, a group of his friends passed amongst them, asking for money. I never saw him jump and I think it was a scam. Later, a different young man was standing there, waiting to jump. Perhaps I should have pushed him in.

The Gaia side of the Douro river is the north side, so it gets less sun. It’s where all the port cellars are. We saw the signs for Taylor’s, Graham’s, Cockburn, and Calem’s. We had a tour of Calem’s. Tour guide was very witty. At the end, we sat and tasted three different ports ( a proper, small glass, of port, so a proper taste not just a mouthful). This was great fun, we each liked a different port, and one of us drank rather a lot by the time he’d finished off all the glasses that other people weren’t keen on.

We then left, via their shop (not stupid the port-making people). The port was much cheaper than you can buy it in England, and came in nice gift boxes and bags, so we all bought some as gifts. I’m not sure that it all actually made it back to England with us, but I won’t say any more about that. It was an excellent afternoon.

Portugal is one of the main cork growing places in the world. They are trying to increase the popularity of cork by using it for products other than wine stoppers. So as we walked around, we saw lots of shops selling postcards made of cork. We all bought one for our mothers/partners who are back in England. We passed a postbox with a fun sculpture next to it, so took lots of photos and posted our cards. Then we worried that the postbox was just part of the sculpture, and not a proper postbox at all. Tried to retrieve cards, but it was impossible. All the post-offices in Portugal seem to be yellow–so why would there be a red English postbox? I fear we may never see those cards again.

Walked back to the metro and stopped for ice-creams. When the train arrived, there were lots of people, so I quickly jumped onto the train, the doors shut, and the train set off. I then realised I couldn’t see any of my family, and I had no idea of which station I needed to get off at, or how to get to the hotel from the station. Felt rather abandoned. (When the children were small, I had strategies for this sort of disaster—now they are all super-competent, they sometimes forget me.) R sent me a message, telling me which carriage they were in, and which station to get off at. Found them. Will keep a closer eye on the group in future.

I had a nap, while the males tried to book a restaurant for dinner. The males failed. It was raining (raining!) so we got taxis back to the cathedral. (The cathedral didn’t get a mention earlier, because I didn’t like it.) Walked to several fully-booked restaurants. Found one, next to the river, with okay(ish) food and okay(ish) service. No one got food poisoning, which is the main thing.

Walked back to the metro in the rain.

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Another instalment of our holiday in Portugal will be posted soon.

Thank you for reading. You can follow my blog at:
anneethompson.com
Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her work in book shops and Amazon. Why not buy one today?
(I think the best one is CLARA – A Good Psychopath? which shows how someone very bad, can achieve something amazing…

Anne E Thompson

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Diary of a Harvest Festival