In Lisbon...

I've never been to Lisbon. I've been to Porto in the north of Portugal, but not the capital in the south. And now 'I've never been to Lisbon' is a phrase I can't use anymore, it's a tee-shirt slogan that simply wouldn't make sense.

I flew there from Gatwick airport on the 1040hrs TAP flight and once the plane had climbed through the fog that covered southern England like a blanket, there were blue skies and cotton wool clouds below us as we flew south west, across the channel and over a bit France before crossing the Bay of Biscay and then heading out to sea before sweeping round and back over the sea and into Lisbon. It was a great flight: smooth and the food was free! It wasn't a feast, just a roll (not sure what was in it, either tuna or chicken, but it was free, along with a small and sweet pretzel and a cup of tea (although they didn't provide the milk, more's the pity).

Trams like this one are all over Lisbon and in souvenir shops

Getting through security at Lisbon airport was fast and soon I was heading into the town in a cab where I was booked, for one night, into the H10 Duque de Loulé Hotel. It was a fantastic place and I wished I'd stayed for another night, but you can't have everything and, once I'd checked out yesterday morning and the day wore on, I started thinking about the ordeal of a late flight back to Blighty. I hate night flights and while the outward journey was absolutely fine, the easyJet flight home was, shall we say, a little choppy. Clear air turbulence, said the female pilot, as I gritted my teeth and got on with it; I mean, once you're up there, what can you do?

Typical Lisbon living...

Friday during the day was fine. After hitting the sack around midnight on Thursday I awoke refreshed and ready to hike around town with the international man of mystery. The Lisbon Bike Share scheme was considered, but only briefly as we found walking a far preferable option. We headed down the street towards the sea and emerged on to a huge square with restaurants lining its left and right sides. Later we would enjoy a light lunch, but right now we headed to the seafront, turned left and then wove our way around narrow, steep lanes looking for a church that we never really found. But that was of no consequence because we did find a pleasant coffee shop where we both had a cappuccino and then made our way back to the main square to meet a pal who never materialised. But again, it didn't matter. We sat there, people watching and chatting about this and that and then, having paid for our lunch (a chicken wrap and a non-alcohol beer, the international man of mystery had a salad and a coke) we headed off, with a guy called Sam, and continued to wander about. I bought a fridge magnet and then we found ourselves in a rather strange coffee house that seemed to double as an antique shop. We had another cappuccino and then carried on milling around the city until it was time to congregate back at the hotel.

A view of Lisbon...

The weather had been fine, certainly better than in the UK. There was sunshine, blue skies and cotton wool clouds and the temperature was around 15 degrees, unlike in Prague, roughly this time last year, when we were treading carefully over icy pavements.

The main square with the sea behind me...

At Lisbon airport there was chaos. There was a big queue for security and then, after my suitcase cleared the scanner I restocked it and then forgot it was open when I picked it up. The contents of the case fell noisily to the floor. Unlike in Paris, when I last pulled this stunt, there was no applause as I self-consciously picked up my stuff and rammed it hastily back into the case. What a cock.

Room 905, H10 Duque de Loulé Hotel, Lisbon

Then the day's caffeine kicked in. I'd been off it for the best part of three months and those three cappuccinos earlier started to make me feel a little weird. I bought three bottles of mineral water and drank them in quick succession as I felt very hot-headed and might have had a temperature. I felt a little better as we queued for the flight at gate 214. And then, of course, there was the flight home and that clear air turbulence I spoke about earlier. I hate it. I sat by the window but there was nothing but blackness outside so I just sat there and waited for the flight to end, which it eventually did, and earlier than expected. We landed around 1015hrs, cleared security, hired a taxi and then headed for home. I don't know about you, but I can't just go to bed straight from the airport so I sat up and watched television – Glam Rock on the BBC. I hadn't eaten anything since that chicken wrap at lunch time. Well, alright, I had a coconut cake with one of the coffees mid-afternoon, but that was it, so I found a teacake in the bread bin and followed up with a couple of cheese rolls, and a decaffeinated tea.

View from Room 905, Duque de Loulé Hotel

Those cheese rolls were a good choice. Later I had a really weird dream, which is what eating cheese late at night is all about. Jack Black was in the dream. He was on a dance floor in a club somewhere, wearing beige chinos and a flowery shirt. Then he was on a chat show – or at least I think it was a chat show – sitting on a circular leather sofa. For some reason, I was there too. There was a man with a severely deformed face. In the beginning he wore mirrored sun glasses, but when he took them off you could see his awful deformity and then he started to spew his awful, extreme right, bigoted, racist views. At that point I woke up. And here I sit, at the living room table, pissed off to note that Friends is being re-run on Netflix and that awful Phoebe is singing Smelly Cat.