108. New Years Eve

PORTIMAO, THE ALGARVE, PORTUGAL

Collected my frozen Mother from her, what appeared nice, apartment. Turns out there was no heating so the result is damp. We went to the office to formally book in as we arrived late last night, the lady there was good enough to give my Mum a fan heater. Unfortunately it proved to have a dodgy thermostat so only runs for a few seconds at a time so we can only run it at one kilowatt.

Roman knew that Mothers suitcase contained presents and had done well to wait a day so opening presents was the order of the day (after a cup of tea of course (not going to miss that opportunity for torture)).  It was very successful as the three older children had chosen their Grandma gifts on Amazon with Fyfe immediately disappearing into The Guinness Book of Records.  Roman's gift, a ground sensing helicopter like machine that had also been a particular hit with Mother's other grandchildren.

Ferrero Rocher chocolaté, not to be wasted on children!

Helped Brian to water his Glampa* and while doing so noticed neighbours (Christian and Eva Braun) dealing with a indicator on a stalk that had broken off their motorhome. Brian and I were happy to assist and noticed that although the fitting had broken the mounting screws off it was otherwise intact. We drilled the internal bracket and, using cable ties, back through the cable hole, onto the engine bay wall, effecting a first class, enduring repair. We were well pleased with ourselves. Later in the day Eva appeared with a box of chocolates, which was totally unnecessary but delicious and the lovely note above. I am amazed at the amount of maintenance that I do and have wondered how others cope.

Late in the afternoon, we learnt, via the children that the bar at the top of the camp was, not surprisingly, having a New Years Eve Party. We were happy to go but let the children convince us and have the win. We headed up at about ten thirty and I had the novel double experience of feeling young at a party and dancing to Abba or more specifically Mamma Mia!, a film I have managed to avoid to date.

Audrey and Roman walking home

It was a great night with an expat crowd in UK/Portuguese pub. The children enjoyed themselves immensely as did we, and met many lovely folk, not returning to the Giantavan till two something in the morning.

*Motorhome