Last Day

We hope that nobody suffered to much distress as a result of there being no blog post yesterday. By the time we had wrestled with dodgy internet connections and the UK Government's Passenger Locator Forms we had had enough typing. If you have yet to go through this process start thinking about your 14 character password now.

Today we awake refreshed and start the process of emptying the fridge. D can thoroughly recommend local ham and cheese on toast to get the day off to a good start. Once again it is sunny and warm and we set out to visit the Santa Catarina Gardens which overlook the west end of the promenade. Last time we were here it was quite a grey day which needed long sleeves. Today it was much warmer, suiting not only us but the numerous lizards basking on the walls.
We moved on towards the sea to discover that there was some kind of cycle race going on. Looking at the hills on this island one would have thought that a Madeiran would be a shoo in  for the Tour de France King of the Mountains each year but then we see that the race is just circuits along the pan flat esplanade. It is all being taken very seriously, police have closed off the side roads and there are marshalls on the pedestrian crossings.
Once we have watched the peleton go west then east we head down and cross before they come back again. In the harbour enthusiastic types are paddling double and quad seater canoes around a circuit, being cheered on by enthusiasts on land. It is all go as far as the Madeira sporting scene is concerned. We press on in search of shade and coffee which we fail to find but do bag ice creams which then have to be eaten quite quickly as they are melting in the heat.
We do find a coffee and while away half an hour watching the a policeman sending buses away from their intended route. We have seen no sign of cyclists for some time and eventually a squad car arrives to collect the bus diverter and normality returns. We stroll eastwards along the prom, passing the scene of the prize presentation for the cyclists. We debate our catering options for today and decide on a decent lunch with domething snacky later. We do a couple of circuits of the Old Town before deciding on the Arsenal Restaurant. They are at great pains to point out that their football allegiance lies outside North London and their name comes from an historic building..

We order from their daily specials board, R going for fried squid and D opting for Portuguese Steak , which turns out to be quite small with a fried egg on top. The food is good and the chips absolutely excellent. The service is cheery and we are even greeted by a passing street poet who takes us for Danes. His poetry is no better than his national identification prowess.

The afternoon is taken up by packing and checking the weight of our luggage. Exhausting work. Our search for something light this evening comes up trumps and we enjoy garlic bread and a shared tapas platter.


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