I started reading John le Carré’s “The Night Manager” yesterday (an obligatory purchase from Livraria Lello in Porto), so I’ve had so many spy and conspiracy theory story ideas running through my head all day. It’s nice to be writing again. Hell it’s nice to be reading again. I haven’t had the time or energy lately, especially since now reading glasses are obligatory. Stupid computer-strained eyes.
Since I’m only on this visa for two years I’m trying not to accumulate too much stuff while I’m in London, which means not buying anywhere near the amount of books I’d like to. I think the best way to solve this problem is to buy a kindle or something so I can buy whatever I want and not worry about eventual luggage weight. Except I like actual books, I’m not sure how I’d handle a kindle…
Anyway as mentioned in my previous post I’m in Portugal and on a rare holiday that requires nothing but relaxation. I’ve never done one of those before. Most trips I take I try to pack as much in as possible because my time here is on a clock. But it’s so nice to sit back on a deckchair, drink a beer and read an actual book. Sure I’m hiding in the shade under a muumuu and a large hat thanks to the joys of being a ginger, but I’m relaxing all the same.
Today we drove from Lisbon to Moura, a little town in Portuguese wine country. After a massive cock up with our rental car booking (seriously fuck you Alamo/Guerin), it was a lovely drive through the countryside. We stopped off in Évora, a medieval city about an hour from Lisbon, and checked out the Roman ruins and the Chapel of Bones. It’s exactly what it sounds like and there’s nothing like getting a dose of your own mortality after a light lunch. I hope my body can be useful when I die, maybe I’ll donate it to science or something.
Anyway on that cheery note I’ll leave you to it. Tschüss
Listening to: 11/22/63 by Stephen King (audio book)
Watching: Nothing, because Netflix doesn’t work in Portugal…
Reading: see above
Current man-crush: Gregory Peck