As I shook off the horror of having to travel with a cast of tens if not thousands I amused myself by holding some casting sessions. It started in the hotel when I noticed that the waiter at our breakfast table bore an uncanny resemblance to Eusabio. If it is not in too bad taste I would say he is a dead ringer. I didn’t get a chance to test his soccer prowess. He poured a mean cup of coffee though.
The restaurant was managed by none other than Jose Mourinho. The same dour expression. Perhaps a little pout to go with it? And then the coach driver. Ladies….. hold on to your undies and resist all temptation to pretend you are at a Tom Jones concert – no knicker throwing please. It was George Clooney. The tour guide gave out false info and said his name was Joan. Lies. All lies. He was definitely male and I quickly tipped off the ladies in our small group. Thereafter he was ‘George’. He loved it. I didn’t see him with a Nespresso though.
Others on my cast list include:
The Man with the Rug
The Tipsy Man with the cane
The Odd Couple
The Barrister Babe.
The photography bore. How on earth did
I he creep in.
The pianist was called Nelson. I didn’t count his eyes but I think he was missing an ear for music. All the right notes but not necessarily in the right order. Perhaps he was Nelson van Gogh. Perhaps it was he of whom Elton John was thinking when he wrote Don’t shoot me….
Mr. Bean owned a vineyard that produced port wine. He hosted a dinner for our group one evening and it went down a storm. He was a born comedian. He would give Rowan Atkinson a run for his money any day. His English was not entirely broken but surely badly cracked. He simply loved telling funny stories and rarely have I seen a man so consumed with a love for his vocation.
The Lush was a lady with a penchant for martinis. And wine. And I guess pretty much everything else behind the bar. Maybe even the barman. She was the oddest human shape I have ever seen and by golly I’ve looked in a few mirrors in my time. Her ‘taste’ in clothing reminded me of the Dolly Parton quip – it takes a lot of money to look this cheap. I am sure she was a lovely lady but I considered her far too dangerous to approach. I tacked away each time she bore down on us.
The other characters I may discuss later but I am wary of lawsuits.
You need a photo from Portugal for today. How about this one to show off the beauty of the Douro.
And perhaps a little rock to gorge upon:
And tomorrow I may return. We shall see. Adeus.