We had rain, we had wind, we had the Wayne Coyne - the Grand High Willy Wonka of indie rock - zorbing over the crowd like a hamster in a ball. There was port tasting and pasteis de nata, francesihnes (two!), so many brilliant friends old and new, finally getting Sam into the football, finally seeing the Afghan Whigs ...and MORE bloody rain.
And then, at last, the sun came out. We ran to the beach and roasted like two good little English lobsters.
We're still slowly beaming back down to earth, and I'm not quite to de-pret-a-Porto yet...
What's the goss?