There is always a time in the interactions between travellers when the conversation turns to toilets. Now is such a time. As a lover of history (and of really bad names) I think a discussion about Thomas Crapper is overdue. Thomas Crapper (his real name!) was a pioneer in a number of areas – his company had the first ever plumbing showroom, he received a royal warrant to put flushing toilets into Sandringham Castle and even after he died in 1906 sewer covers with his name on them were being produced by a foundry he owned (you will find pictures of them on the internet). I suspect he may have also made the toilet I used yesterday.

In 1906 it would have been a modern affair. Paper was dispensed with the push of a button, flushing occurred upon arising, and the whole cubicle was sprayed with a scented mist on exit. All of this for just 20 cents my children!

Those who have been to Japan would have experienced wonder when using the latest in electronic marvels. Those who have been to India or China have also been struck speechless no doubt. I confessed to one of my travelling companions last night that I am wracked by uncertainties when forced to use the hole in the floor variety – what do you do with your trousers, which way should I face, why is there no paper and where should I put my shoulder bag? None of this was of concern when using Crapper’s 1905 Model Iberian Railways Auto Deluxe Water Closet found outside a local railway station.

My children, as you travel through Iran and Columbia, I just know how much you will wish that Thomas Crapper and Sons had spread their plumbing even further. But then, just think of the rich conversations you will be able to bring to the toilet-talk table next time we meet,

Your Loving Father

 F C-S

Lisbon is an easy enough city to navigate, the four cardinal points on its compass – North, South, Up, and Down, are catered for by a clean and efficient public transport system. Yesterday we headed South to the town of Cascais.

The journey there and back was by train along the Targus coastline. It reminded me somehow of the Rosewood to Grandchester rail journeys I made as a child in that both were by train. The trip yesterday, however, had a coastline dotted by castles, old palaces and newer holiday resorts, something that the Rosewood to Grandchester journey lacks.

Many of the old palaces were built by the Portuguese nouveau rich in the mid-1800s. Sugar and cattle barons had made their fortunes in Brazil and returned home. They brought with them money, a sense of independence and often Brazilian wives, mistresses and children, legitimate or otherwise. They had strong ties to England – their major market, and were far more liberal in their outlook than the old moneyed classes of Lisbon. The scene was certainly set for later strife.

Cascais itself was disappointing. Its name translates as ‘Surfers Paradise’, the same tacky gift shops, the same white-shoed businessmen, the same propensity for over-the-top. Instead of schoolies they have Brits and Irish hoards, hence Irish Pubs, British Pubs, fish and chip shops and Indian takeaways. We ate lunch in a very good seafood restaurant, but were more than willing to head home early.

Our meal last night however was superb – tapas made by a couple from the Portuguese mountains in a restaurant that seats just 10 people. They were immensely proud of their city, their restaurant, and their food. A very simple meal, but memorable because of the hosts’ passion. Sometimes contrasts like that can make the rest of the day seem even more disappointing. If only I could somehow learn to love schoolies and Surfers Paradise, British pubs and tacky gift shops. Then I might even go back to Cascais…

F C-S