Woke early (again), refused to look at my watch for at least an hour - when I did it was 6.30. At 8am I gave in and got up, heading out to find a bakery. After a few false starts I finally found a cute little shop with a bakery counter. The front of the shop consisted of small tables for two at which say elderly ladies, the back of the shop was the counter where the men stood drinking espresso. I successfully ordered a coffee and selected three different croissants to take away - cue lots of bag miming with the jolly woman in the housecoat behind the counter. Just as I was about to pay the fresh bread arrived so I ended up buying warm crusty rolls too.
After breakfast we strolled down to the station to catch the train to Cascais the glamourous beach resort half an hour away, with a casino that was the inspiration for Ian Fleming when he wrote Casino Royale.
The small crescent shaped Praia da Rainha - the Queen's Beach - seemed apt as it was the Diamond Jubilee back home.
The next few hours were spent people watching, reading and snoozing. The people watching had many highlights, including: the mahogany coloured couple with matching thongs, the beautifully dressed and accessorised Swiss couple who de-robed in front of us and the gay couple in the micro shorts. When no-one interesting stepped into view, Lucy Worsley kept me entertained on the Kindle.
Lunch was taken on the terrace overlooking the beach - service as everywhere we have eaten this trip was a little flaky but the food was good, though the jug of sangria was just too big and defeated us.
A leisurely stroll around town took us to a strange gallery come café - again with very strange service, they seemed to want to discourage us from ordering anything - the homemade lemonade would not be sweet enough apparently. We sat on the roof deck and waited for the drinks to arrive, eventually the waitress brought them to us and glared at me. I wondered aloud if we had stumbled into a lesbian venue and that was why I was not welcome? The girls laughed and told me not be silly, then stopped suddenly as a Birkenstock clad lady with cropped hair and a man's shirt stepped onto the terrace.
Final meal of the trip was at a tiny tapas restaurant - not the one in the Lonely Planet guide that didn't actually exist, but one very nearby. The service was (as in every other Lisbon establishment) friendly but flakey. They gave us a table for two and forgot to bring the third chair. Then they forgot to bring the couvert, until the chef noticed us looking longingly at it sat on the side. Once handed over it was amazing - chewy ciabatta style bread with herb cheese, beetroot cheese and black olives. The tapas were equally great - crushed tomato and garlic bruschetta, hickory smoked baked Parmesan balls, padron peppers sat in salt crystals and roasted garlic, prawns flambéd in chilli oil and flambéd scallops with a fresh salsa - we had to order more bread just to mop up the delicious juices.
Back then to the apartment for a relatively early night.
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