Ramblings

The arid Sagres peninsula

In 1988 DJ Mike Smith and his partner TV presenter Sarah Greene were seriously injured in a helicopter crash. Happily both made full recoveries. In a subsequent interview, they were asked what they had said in the seconds when they thought they might be about to die. Mike Smith said it sounded corny, but he had said “I love you,” I’m afraid I doubt that. I’ve tested it under laboratory conditions.

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In the autumn of 1987, I had found myself with five days of annual leave remaining. It was use it or lose it by the calendar year end. So Debbie and I decided on some December sun in southern Portugal.

It didn’t go well. There was torrential rain for much of the week. The Green Guide had described the “arid” Sagres peninsula. We had never seen anywhere less arid.

At one hotel we were intrigued to find candles and matches in our room and spread liberally throughout the corridors. We found out why when the hotel was plunged into darkness by a lengthy power cut – which may or may not have been caused by the thunderstorm.

But mostly I remember a place called Beja. I was driving out of town after lunch on what I took to be a main road. Unfortunately I failed to see the Give Way sign…

I had about a second when I knew we were going to hit a car driving along the crossing road. I could have said “I love you” with what, for all I knew, might have been my last breath. But no, I used that second to belatedly swerve, hit the brake, and say “Fuck!” And they say men can’t multi-task.

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In some ways, it was – and still ranks as – my worst ever holiday. And yet…I replayed that accident many times in my head. We could have gone into the path of a lorry or bus, which might have killed us both. We could have hit a cyclist or pedestrian and killed someone. In fact we had hit a beat-up 2CV at an angle, and luckily the driver was uninjured, as were we.

The police arrived before long, and were perfectly charming. Quite reasonably they breathalysed me. I had taken only sparkling water with my lunch, so I was clean. As far as we could make out from the police (and their English was much better than my Portuguese) the fellow driving the car we had hit had been struggling to sell his old 2CV, but was delighted because it would now be an insurance write-off. Our hire car was badly dented but still drivable, and the police followed us for the first mile out of town to check that it was safe to drive – also, probably, to check that I was now driving safely.

Avis brought a replacement car to our hotel in Evora the next morning and drove the damaged car away. Our holiday didn’t miss a beat.

The accident was plainly my fault, but Debbie didn’t go on about it. The way things had gone, we might well have turned on each other. It was our first holiday together and could easily have been our last. But no, we supported each other, laughed a lot, and got through it together.

I’ve heard that you shouldn’t commit to a relationship before you’ve observed your potential partner receiving poor service in a restaurant and getting stuck in bad traffic. And before meeting Debbie I had dated a girl who, if I took her to an 8/10 restaurant, would focus on the 2. Her glass was permanently one fifth empty. Life can be wonderful but it’s rarely perfect, and the ability to be positive in adversity and joyful in stormy weather is precious. Debbie had and has that ability. We returned from our holiday more deeply in love than when we went away.

We could have done without all the rain. As for the power cut, well, it had its advantages. So maybe it was my worst ever holiday. Perhaps, though, it was also my best.