A week in the sun. Fled the wet and dismal Birmingham along with several plane loads of Brits, heading for the Algarve. Took possession of Casa Serena along the coast from Faro. They have not had rain here for over six months. Temp every day is 20 overnight 27 through the day. The pool is shaded in the afternoon by a row of tall conifers. Equiped with a massive Aldi shopping we are prepared for a week of play. Already introduced the guys to Breeze style murder darts in the barbecue hacienda. There is a cupboard full of games that look interesting.

The national bird of Portugal is the Barcelos rooster. Belgium has Mannekin Pis, Australia has Ned Kelly, England has Robin Hood while Portugal has the Barcelos Rooster. All of these fabled heroes upholding the welfare of the underprivileged. Perhaps in Russia and the States the underprivileged are expected to look after themselves. In the little Portuguese town of Barcelos a man was once wrongly accused of stealing silver. He protested that if he were wrongly hanged, a roasted chicken would rise in song. So the story goes, the chook did sing and he was set free to live happily ever after. The rooster is proving to be a suitable inspiration for all manner of merchandise.

Summer in the Algarve and tourists and locals alike are enjoying the sun. The Algarve is characterised by endless towering cliffs dropping away to pretty little beaches, far below. This means access is difficult, parking impossible and intense pressure on the limited beach space. All of this is handled with grace and good humour.

Best, only, way to appreciate the caves is by boat. Boat fast enough to get around, but slow enough to watch the dolphins synchronised swimming. Most famous is the Benagil sea cave with its spectacular sky light.

The remains of Silves castle with its surrounding medieval walled city lie in the hills a half an hour inland from Faro. Just inside the city walls sits the archeological museum. The museum was set up in 1990 following the discovery of a 12th cent. Almohad well cistern in the course of an archeological dig in the 1980s. Most of the museum is given over to a collection of pottery shards dating from the 12th cent. to recent times.

Along with coffee and trombones, pottery has been one of my many obsessions. In particular the ancient amphora form. As so many of the really old amphorae only exist as broken bits, over the years I have been making broken bits of amphorae. Imagine the surprise at finding such a smashing, sic, example of a great old amphora. Also included here is a photo of one of my follies.