Monte

More than once I’ve felt we should visit the tropical gardens at Monte, high in the hills above Funchal - and we’ve never gone, because we didn’t know how best to do this, given Himself’s loathing of cable cars and the presence of three cruise ships in the harbour, which, we were informed, meant huge queues at such attractions. But today, thanks to resourceful and knowledgeable friends, we made it. We took a taxi (shared among the four of us) there in the morning and the bus down at teatime, all safely seated because we got on at the terminus in Monte.

I’m so glad we made it at last. Beautifully designed, occasionally bonkers, the gardens flow down a steep slope and back up again. There are massive goldfish in ponds with waterfalls artfully arranged in and out, swans the suddenly emerged onto the path beside us, peacocks wandering and occasionally screeching - and flamingos, of which I give you one whose non -weight-bearing leg made me laugh. There was a disconcerting art exhibition and a display of crystals still in the rocks that sheltered them.

We had a snack in a cafe where our entrance tickets got us a glass of Madeira, and climbed back up the steep hillside to the gate, where we visited the old funicular station and waited for our bus. The sun shone all day and we had a lovely time.

We tottered down the road to the parrot restaurant for a great dinner of Madeira skewers of the tederest, most flavoursome steak. We laughed immoderately - at least, I did - and could barely make it back up the road.

This is being on holiday!