The Perils Of Portugal

Way back in the summer of 2012.

I had just spent the weekend in Ireland celebrating the wedding of my friends Ed and Leanne, whom I had lived with in Brisbane.  My head was sore and I was counting the costs of the trip as I walked through Exeter Airport arrivals.  Within moments of turning my phone on I had an incoming call.  It was from the Moreton boys – a friend had just had his long term relationship break up, he was feeling down, so a holiday was being planned for September and did I want in?  Perhaps I was still slightly drunk from the Irish celebrations.  I said yes immediately and f**k the cost!

A week or so later we all convened for a trip to the travel agents to see what kind of deal we could find.  One fried breakfast later we were all booked.  7 nights in Albufeira, Portugal.  We promised ourselves we were too old for a boys holiday and for once, we’d be sensible.  You know, exploring, sight seeing, tennis, golf, maybe just 1 night on the drink?  Lies … all lies.

September came, off we flew and carnage almost immediately commenced.  Needless to say, partying and drink featured heavily though I did manage to head off exploring on a couple of occasions at least!

Here’s some of the snapshots I think I’m safe enough to share.  Countless others are for our eyes only.

Nowadays I’m solely a solo traveller and that’s unlikely to change unless I ever meet a nice girl.  It’s good to remember those days though. Even if it took me a week to get over it.

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