pasteis de nata and the scent of orange blossom

When Significant Other packed his backpack and took off for Spain last week, I was glad that he was going to be happy doing his travel thing. But he had scarcely been gone a day when I got sad, frustrated and restive and so I booked a flight, found an hotel and by Friday I was here in southern Portugal.

I haven't travelled alone for years, it's very freeing. You get to do whatever you want, whenever you want and not feel guilty if - as an example pulled randomly from the air - you get struck down by an attack of dodgy tummy and can't face the bus to little town miles away from anywhere else and have to instead spend the day reading and people-watching from your sunny balcony.

On other days I have got lost walking around the town, ambled round the ancient citadel, climbed the cathedral tower, watched boats enter and leave the marina, eaten not enough pasteis de nata and taken in huge lungfuls of delicious, orange-blossom scented air.