postcard, sky changing

We were walking back from an amble to the river, joining the crowds in sunlight, passing the ones drinking Pina coladas (I think?) from hollowed pineapples (who knew this was a thing?), tiny paper umbrellas decorating the rim, then returning to our lovely hotel so I could swim. The water isn’t warm but somehow that doesn’t matter. I was thinking of last night’s dinner, with fado, and feeling like I wasn’t really ready to leave. But tomorrow we’re going back to the UK, just for two nights in Richmond, with most of a day at Kew, where I last visited in 1976 when I lived in Wimbledon. Then home. The building with the blue tiles is across the road from us here in Porto, the scrap of sky above them. We’ll be returning to winter.