When we first deserted Swindon's sunny shores and moved to Spain, we spent the first 2 months looking for a house to buy. Our plan was to find an old village house and modernise it to live in. Due to the delapidated state of most village properties, we soon found out that this is possible only if you are:

a) a very experienced builder
b) very rich
c) verging on the insane

As we consider ourselves none of the above (although the jury is still out on c), we bought a small plot of land on the edge of a village, drew up some plans and found a builder to build us a house. The stress was such during the year that it took to build that we agreed that we would never, ever do it again.

When we arrived in Portugal, we wanted a newish house with no modernistion needed, so that we could move straight in and be stress free.

After looking for houses for some time, we have now bought a plot of land on the edge of a village to build our own house. This time, however, is a little easier because plans were already prepared and passed and the builder, Carlos, had started work.

We have spent a great deal of time with Carlos planning various aspects of the build and this week it was time to choose the floor and wall tiles and bathroom suites. We met Carlos at 9 o'clock and proceeded to be driven around the local countryside at breakneck speed finding tile and bathroom suppliers. Unlike in England, these suppliers tend to be small, privately owned businesses often situated miles from nowhere. It is common to drive up to someone's country house and find that they have a warehouse built in their back gardens, full of sinks and toilets.

Having finally selected our tiles, toilets and so on, Carlos drove us through small country lanes and villages at even greater speed to a local restaurant to celebrate, at the same time explaining that his driving had slowed down a lot because four years ago he had crashed his Ferrari at 150 mph,in the rain. All the while, he was driving with just one hand on the steering wheel and turning round to talk to Sue in the back seat.

The restaurant was, however, incredible. There was no menu as they served only one meal: Bacalhau (salt cod) in olive oil and garlick with potatoes in olive oil and garlick. There was only locally made red wine to drink and home made bread to soak up the oil and garlick. The restaurant was packed. Carlos told us that it is always packed and that they serve just this one meal, lunchtimes and evenings, seven days a week. And it is always packed. The food was delicious (if you like olive oil and garlick) but the sad thing is that it may not last. Apparently, EEC regulations may stop them serving the wine because it is made by local villagers treading grapes in their baths, which does comply to some idiotic health regulations. Also the bread, olive oil and garlick is locally produced, again upsetting some bureaucratic nonsence from Brussels. Why can these overpaid, self important, expenses claiming MEPs not leave things to individual choice. If I don't mind risking getting a bit of toenail or a cornplaster in my wine, what business is it of theirs.

Everyone should visit Portugal very soon before it is forced to become another modern, clinical, characterless European country, exactly like all the others. And if you could drive here via Brussells and run down an MEP on the way, so much the better.