Well, this is it. The last ever Photo of the Day. I’ve come to the end of my tether when it comes to taking photos all the time. It’s been a whole year. It’s also our last few moments in Madrid. Ben and Luis are getting annoyed because we are technically cutting it very fine to make our flight home. But look at this bloody tiles. You’d be happy to miss your flight for them.
We are on our Spanish lunchtime break and Luis is leading us to some sort of hidden gem. It really is never bad to be in Spain. We have delicious fish and chips - and they bear no resemblance to their British counterparts.
The flight from Eindhoven to Madrid was less than fun. There was some sort of train trouble involving a lightening strike on the train tracks. But I am here now, waiting to interview someone in a bar – bring on the jamon.
Today is the family day. And it is even more ridiculous than I had imagined it would be. We are all riding through Dutch countryside on four person bikes. Yes, four person bikes. They are like Flintstone vehicles. It’s pretty fun actually.
Here we are in Druten for a family reunion of Ivo’s family. I don’t really know what to expect - our family don’t do this sort of thing.
Ben and I are getting food from the far end of Leather Lane and this is the best thing I can see.
Great Ormond Street
Ben and I are on our way to Waitrose to buy packaging samples. He is dragging a suitcase in anticipation of our haul and I am trotting alongside trying to keep up with his long stride.
I’ve managed to drag myself kicking and screaming to yoga. I know I’ll be glad of it, but at 6am, it’s hard to feel that.
It’s so blustery I can hardly hold still enough to take a photo. And I’ve worn stupid clothes.
Witches hat wearing crown
Ivo and I are off to our one and only day at work this week, for tonight we go to Porto.
I am walking to the train station where I spy this discarded collection of Magic Trees. They’ve probably been chucked out of the car and into the gutter – possibly the best place for them. There really is nothing worse than strawberry scent artificially “replicated” to create a stench that is beyond putrid.
Burgundy in Porto
It is our last day and Mary, Ivo and I are wandering the sunny streets aimlessly, blissfully. This place is beautiful, but nothing is open. It seems like the whole city has upped sticks and closed it’s doors.
The rain has well and truly set in, but these three are not fearful, for they have raincoats purchased from a corner store. And they match. Every time I look at them, it makes me laugh.
Ivo is going to try and have a surf. I am doing an exemplary job of over egging the “girlfriend on the beach” thing by cross stitching while he’s in the water.
I am in Porto, going to Primavera Sound. More important that any music, is getting hold of as many Pasteis de Nata I can, and stuffing them in my gob. We are in luck: there’s a bakery just down the road from our apartment and they are better than I could have imagined.