This chilled out hound lives in Faro, Portugal. He pretty much ignored me as I took this shot. So I inched a little closer. An inch too close, as it turned out. The hound saw me off. From cuddly pup to killer in a flash. With a telling flash of his fangs. He is indeed a good boy. He did his job. And I still had my photo, so all is well. The dog is mans best friend for a whole bunch of reasons. Security is just one of them.
It transpired that it was quicker and cheaper to get home via Faro than by returning to Malaga. We like quick and cheap, so that’s what we did. What can I tell you about Faro? It’s small. We toured the main sites in an afternoon, marvelling at the Chapel of Bones and taking a leisurely stroll through the cobbled streets of the old town. The regional museum is not something that one would describe as one the world’s must sees. But it was still a pleasant way to spend a half hour. Mrs P and her mother took a little boat trip out into a nature reserve, which they enjoyed. I preferred to stay warm. Continue reading