Living in Portugal has its trials and tribulations and it's different ways of working and culture. A couple of things that I miss are the local postman, who mostly delivers the mail on a daily basis in the UK, right to your front door and he was always up for a chat. There is nothing like that in Portugal, you may be one of the fortunate ones that has a mail box somewhere near your home, ready for any unscrupulous individual to rifle through. We decided that the safer option was to have a personal mail box inside the local post office, but then we have to collect this on a regular basis (if we remember).

The second is the now disappearing in the UK, the milkman, who would rise every day at three in the morning, rain or shine, just to deliver milk to your doorstep. In Portugal as with the post and if you want milk, you have to fetch it.

........................so there I was, car keys in hand, about to exit the front door, when I was approached by the Kamp Kommandant asking where I was going. Not realising that I was under house arrest and needing permission to leave the "kamp" and, that I was required to fill in a daily activity sheet, I replied that I was off to the Post Office to collect the mail.

“O'”, the Kommandant said, "in that case, can you call at the supermarket and get some milk".
Ja vol mein fuhrer, I replied.

To which she said, "and if they have eggs, get six". I acknowledged my orders, clicked my heels and set off about my task.

When I returned, she asked me why I had bought six cartons of milk.

Because they had eggs I said.

What?

Is it me?