Well, that was a surprise...

Sometimes, here in Fuseta, the days are pretty standard: a walk, a swim, maybe a snooze, a bit of writing, some food.

It’s all pretty basic stuff, I know, but it’s what makes me happy, relaxed.

So, you ask: ‘Are you retired?’

And the answer, maybe surprisingly, is: ‘No, I am not.’

So, you ask further: ‘Are you working?’

And this time, the answer is a resounding: ‘No!’ Although maybe I should be.

I suppose that means that the only logical question left is: ‘Then what are you doing?’

Well actually, God knows…

Like I said, I walk, I swim, I snooze, I write, I eat, and maybe I have the odd beer here and there. Actually, those of you who know me probably laugh at that. I’ll be honest, it’s more than just the odd beer.

But I like to think that for me, this period is some sort of hiatus, a break in life, a time to do everything and anything that I want to, and that means that I can also do nothing if I want.

People might question that attitude, but here in Fuseta, if you’re not making the most of what is around you (the beauty, the people, the water…) then I really don’t know why you’re here, and the best way to make the most of them is to do very little – or rather, do what makes you happy.

Occasionally, of course, you need to add something to the mix.

When John had his furniture shop up the road, I helped to deliver furniture for him sometimes. It kept me fit.

If either Tone or Kjetil are away, I might help out up at Nanobrew, although I have to be honest, I’m much happier on the customer side of the bar than pouring the beers. Having said that, I’m slowly getting used to serving!

On another note, in a few weeks, Nigel, Max and I are heading up to Salamanca to meet Bert who’s decided it would be a good idea to catch the ferry to Santander and ride his Harley down to Fuseta – in February. Good luck with that. Today the temperature in Salamanca was six degrees, feeling like minus one…

Occasionally, I might travel back to the UK to catch up with my dad.

So yes, I do occasionally break the routine, but only with things that I want to do.

Actually, things like this, things like digressing. Tonight, I actually set out to talk about something that really surprised me the other day, but obviously, I’ve been a little bit waylaid.

So, to continue, the other day was like any other: I walked, I swam, I snoozed, I wrote, I started watching a film (The Long Goodnight – hadn’t seen it for ages). Then Nigel knocked on the door:

‘Fancy a beer?’

Bloody hell, where had he come from? But of course, I did, so we headed off to Cubanito, known to the two of us and several others as Shack No. 2. It’s a monicker that I came up with before I knew the actual names of the bars: Shack No. 1, Shack No. 2 and Shack No. 3, the three bars that I pass on the way to the beach. They’re better known to the locals as Dezoito, Cubanito and O farol to avoid any confusion.

We reached the bar, bought our beers, sat there and chatted. Then our Portuguese friend, Antonio, turned up. Then our big Portuguese friend, whose name escapes me.

The last time we’d seen him, Nigel and I had played against him and one of his friends on the pool table at Jockey. Due to the fact that Nigel and I had had a long day and were slightly inebriated (although only slightly more than the opposition if memory serves me rightly) we lost. I played appallingly, so thought it only fair that I pay the forfeit – beers for the four of us. Our big Portuguese friend truly appreciated this and reciprocated with an enormous hug, which was slightly disconcerting. I’m British after all. It was like being smothered by a grizzly bear.

But back to the night in question:

Then Renato turned up, and we had a beer with him, talked about his car, a turquoise pick-up, which for some reason is loved by a couple ladies we know (weird or what?). After a few beers, Nigel and I decided that it was time to head homeward, which is what we did, well, to my home at least. Nigel still had to get an Uber back to his house in Moncarapacho.

And this, believe it or not, is what I started off wanting to write about tonight. But now I’m here, I have no idea why. Yes, it was a surprise, but was it worth spending a couple of hours writing about? I don’t think so, to be honest. And what would I have written, if not for all the bollocks above?

Anyway, I put this on my list of things I should write about for some reason, so here it is, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.

So, what surprised me that evening? What was so out of kilter with my normal, standard understanding of life here in Fuseta.

Well, I’ll tell you. Normally, Nigel calls an Uber and after a wait, a station wagon arrives or some battered jalopy or a standard, boring, family sedan. But tonight? Bloody hell, tonight a Tesla arrived! A Tesla? A bloody Tesla! Here in Fuseta? Will wonders never cease?

So yes, tonight I started talking about my standard, boring (but so relaxing and enjoyable) life, and was going to juxtapose that with the surprising inclusion of a Tesla being used as an Uber.

Instead, I waffled on about bollocks… sorry, but it happens sometimes. Sometimes I digress and waffle, but then what is life without a bit of digression and waffle?

And yes, I was sober when I wrote this…