Lisbon

The flight from Paris went smoothly, even comfortably. There were lots of spare seats on the plane.
George had predicted that Lisbon would be similar to Melbourne in winter, and he was right, sort of. Since we have been here it has been like Melbourne used to be in winter, grey and wet. The countryside looked very pretty from the air, but also flooded in places. I suppose the snow that has been falling over the rest of Europe is falling as rain here.

The accommodation I booked turns out to have been a fairly courageous choice – more starving poet than old folk with stiff joints. Fortunately it is all white paint and Ikea furniture comfortable and clean, but tucked under the roof of a seriously antique house on a stepped alley in that part of town that is still laid out like a Moorish settlement. We get from the front door of the house to the door of our apartment by way of a terrifyingly steep set of steps. In case of fire I think we just perish. I think it may be worth stepping onto the balcony and closing the shutters behind us, but George has no faith that anyone could get a ladder along the alley to save us.

At the end of our alley we can catch something very like a W class tram, only much smaller.

We visited the Cathedral yesterday, impressively old with plenty for those who like their religion gloomy. But I noticed a few charmingly light touches, and forgot to attempt some photos, I may have to return. In the treasury there is a lovely little statue of the Virgin Mary and child Jesus, boy Jesus and Mummy Jesus as Gavin would have said when he was 2, with mother and child reading a book together. Now I may not have identified the personages correctly, Maybe it is St Anne and Mary, but it is a sweet little statue with the illuminations still showing under the child's pointing finger.

Also on the literary theme, there was not one, but two tombs with female figures (saints? Queens?)
taking their eternal rest perusing open books with little dogs at their feet.

Some of the statues wear clothes, very beautiful embroidered clothes. In the treasury there is a small statue of St Anthony, dressed in his robes holding a lovely little child Jesus, also dressed in something like a christening robe. Displayed around the statue are other items from St Anthony's wardrobe, including a couple of spare pairs of shoes. It seems that, like the clergy, the saint changed his robes according to the liturgical seasons of the church. Someone must have had a lot of fun making these high class dolls clothes.

Other things to be investigated further, an entire street of merceries, or whatever they are called in Portuguese, and several fabric shops, right in the poshest part of town.