Saint Anthony

Statue in the church at Monte, above Funchal, Madeira. As a child I had what is called a special devotion to St Anthony, who is the patron saint of lost things. I thought that maybe he could bring back our lost father (he did, once, when I was thirty three years old, but by that time I'd decided that enough was enough of father's sporadic communications and Tall Tales). I even took the confirmation name of Antoinette, because I preferred it to Antonia.

St Anthony is often depicted in simple brown robes, holding the Christ child. He and the baby both look more expressive and Portuguese in this version than the statues I've seen in the UK's Catholic churches.

In Extras: church at Monte, Cable car ride, Sledgemen/Carreiros do Monte.

On our first full day in Madeira, we had a superb hotel breakfast, then retired to the room to chat, before heading to the pool in the midday sun (stupid idea). I thought it would take me about an hour to plan our excursions for the week, but it took two, plus another half hour with the receptionist trying to book them. In the end we came up with a plan which was not the original, but probably just as good (some of the trips were already fully booked). GG won't input any preferences, but leaves everything to me. I find this baffling, as I come from a more discursive family and workplace team. Agreement at first suggestion is unheard of.

When I came back from booking, I found that she HAD ordered a tuna sandwich, but left half of it, so I had that for lunch, minus the bread. By the time we'd changed to go out, it was late afternoon.

We walked to the cable car (teleferico) station in the park and took the car up to the village of Monte on the mountainside. The views were terrific, but they came out somewhat hazy in my photos. I totally loved the cable car ride, but I always knew I would. Swinging over ravines in a tin can is definitely my sort of thing, as long as the tin can door is fastened, and I don't have to perform any James Bond-like stunts.

At the top we decided to give the Monte Palace gardens a miss, because we'd heard that not all the flowers are out yet. We walked instead to the church, which was beautifully adorned inside, and saw the tomb of the last Emperor of Austria, Carlos, who died here 100 years ago. He  had come to Madeira to be cured of T.B. but unfortunately died of the disease. At his request, he was buried on the island. He is called 'the blessed Carlos' which means that in Catholic terms he is line for a sainthood, once a few (more?) miracles can be attributed to him.

Next, we had a drink on a terrace and watched the Carreiros (sledge runners) in their white uniforms and straw boaters unloading wicker sledges/sleighs/toboggans/carros from a lorry. People, usually tourists, sit in the sledges, in groups of two or three, and the sledge runners start pushing the sleigh down a steep hill and then jump on the back and steer it with ropes. It all looked terrifying. Yet, everyone seemed relaxed and happy, so we decided to give it a go. It would have been daft not to, given that we don't know when or if we will ever be back.

We queued for ages, then finally it was our turn. GG had been holding out for a handsome pair of Carreiros, but I didn't mind, as long as they knew what they were doing.

The actual ride is insanely steep, and curves a lot. The Carreiros are jolly, and make jokes all the way down, and spin the carro round and round just for fun. At one point we even got stuck in a queue behind a lorry. At another point they stopped to grease the runners with some 'go faster wax'. The Carreiros wear non slip boots, which is their secret, apparently.  I suspect that they are all thrill-seeking comedians too, and probably live for ever.

Eventually we arrived at a disembarkation station where people tried to sell us photos of ourselves on the carro, and offered us taxis. We refused all offers, and the taxi driver offended GG by saying, 'But what about the old lady? Are you going to let her walk? Oh my God!' Three miles of walking downhill later, we conceded that he might have had a point! I think the post- sleigh ride buzz was the only thing that kept us going.

By the time we got back to the old town, it was supper time. We ate at a small hole in the wall restaurant, tempted by the fixed price menu. It turned out that the beef  on a skewer, which I chose, was off.  I chose sardines. They were off, too. So we both had swordfish and banana, because that was the only thing left  ON. Then I asked for a sidra ( cider) and that wasn't included in the very special deal either... we drank wine.

After some shopping and a raspberry sorbet ice eaten overlooking the harbour and skatepark, we staggered back to the hotel. The Dutch people we had met the day before seemed astounded that we'd done the carro ride. The  hotelier told us off for walking back.

I do hope that GG can still walk tomorrow!  I have sunburn, but she is already deeply bronzed,  20 years older than me, and infinitely more likely to feel pain in her knees. From now on, her foldable walking stick must be carried on trips out. If it all gets too much, she can whack me over the head with it.