Lisbon Drifters

I think there are some more Lisbon drifters abroad. I took a couple of pictures on Friday. They're of the park at the top of my road. And I apologise for the fencing. I tried to nip inside and take some pictures but the normally benevolent Portuguese workmen weren't having none of it.

No place for old men.

I didn't have a hat or some such - remember I'm not fluent. As they weren't wearing them either, I tried to inform them that they were kettles calling the pot black but instead I think I said something about black dinner plates and hot water.

So I had to take them from beyond the safety fencing *snorts* which was, in my opinion, about as safe as crossing the road with a blindfold on.

Anyway. It was formerly occupied by a horde of old men, rain or shine, playing chess and reminiscing about the good old days. Presumably the ones where Portugal was less a free country and more a regime, run by a guy that thought Hitler was cool. Nice guy.

This was taken mid-afternoon. Look how much work's being done ... come on Lisbon - there's old men a-wandering.

As you can see - it's undergoing an overhaul. Which is fine. But where are the old men? They were always there - every single day. Are they dispersed? Displaced?   

So much so that I've been looking for them. I even checked the cemetary out the other day. It's huge, full of large spaces and there's the odd bench here and there. All I found were several relatives of the dearly departed, thousands of folks enjoying eternal rest and one belligerent graveyard attendant.

But no old men.

I hope they're not wandering the streets of Lisbon, trying to adapt to modern life - playing mobile chess, reminiscing on the hoof and trying not to break a hip or two.

I'm worried about them.