Day 7 – The Four Seasons

Alexander, having stayed up later than usual, woke bright and early and naturally decided the comfiest place to sleep was directly on my head and neck. Honestly, delightful. Eventually, he stirred properly and I took him for a long morning walk down the front while the rest of the world caught up. We even passed the statue of Arthur Cupertino de Miranda, the so called architect of Vilamoura.

By the time we got back, everyone was up and ready for breakfast. Today’s adventure was just next door — we were joining the Ward families at the Four Seasons Aparthotel, a step up from our humble Old Village abode. Walking in felt a bit like the commoners arriving at the palace gates. They had sprinklers, two pools and a sandy area that sloped into the pool (which I hated, because well…sand).

Alexander, on the other hand, was living for it — loving the waterfall, the sprinklers, and the endless attention from other kids. We arrived poolside armed with our multicoloured patterned towels, instantly noticeable among the yellow Four Seasons ones. Nothing says outsiders like a couple of multicoloured stripy towels and a Spider-Man poncho in a sea of lemon sorbet.

There were pool games galore with underwater swim contests (James won), catching games (Ross lost), and an ongoing game of pass the Alexander. There was even an indoor heated pool, because of course there was. We explored it like wide eyed tourists before heading to the pool side bar for a pre-lunch drink.

Before we knew it, it was time for lunch. Ranging from avocado wraps to chicken nuggets and chips, it was the fuel we all needed for more games in the water.

Unfortunately, Sam forgot to bring their ball from home, so had to borrow ours (fair play as we had been using all of their stuff anyway - especially Anna and her lilo).

More games followed, with Alexander wandering around like he owned the place. Friendships were formed with a boy called Finn as we played Donkey (the classic game of throwing the ball and earning a letter every time you dropped it). Remarkably, after ten rounds, Ross had managed to spell Donkey eight times. Even Finn looked visibly bored, never quite making it past the letter N.

At one point, I joined a small expedition to dive for missing pool tiles and blue beads lost somewhere in the water. There were so many simultaneous activities happening around us it was impossible to keep track of anything for more than five minutes - but it was great fun all in all.

After a long day in this fantasy resort, we returned to our apartment. I took a quick trip out to get nappies but the shop was running low on stock. By mistake, I arrived back with adult nappies, much to the amusement of the rest of the family. I was then sent out again to two further shops to get the real deal. Finally, I found what I was looking for.

We were booked in for dinner at O Pirata, a hidden gem tucked away in a quiet residential cul-de-sac. On the way there, Marshall couldn’t help himself but give the Uber driver directions as if he was navigating the streets of his hometown. Not sure if an official taxi driver of Vilamoura would’ve known where to find the place. The restaurant itself was lovely — peaceful, picturesque, and set beside beautifully lit pools. The food was delicious, and to top it all off, the Wards gifted Alexander a Percy the Train toy, which he clutched like it was the crown jewels. Safe to say, he was delighted.

Alexander slept soundly throughout dinner, then woke up and immediately began testing out his running skills along the grass. He stood watching the older kids bouncing on the trampoline, clearly intrigued but still a bit too young to join in. Mid-conversation, Fergus casually asked, “So when do they get kneecaps?” A perfectly normal developmental question — but to us Derry ones, it sounded more like he was referring to when someone gets kneecapped. Sadly, we couldn’t answer either version with confidence.

Getting Ubers home became a full-blown race with 3 Ubers arriving within seconds of each other - talk about an efficient service! Amy and I rounded off the evening with a dramatic pool match. Tragically, my win streak came to an end and I potted the black — game over.

Let’s talk about that for a second. The whole “pot the black and lose” rule is, quite frankly, nonsense. It’s a cruel ending. An injustice. One mistake and that’s it — no redemption, no comeback. Imagine if football still had the golden goal rule: one slip and the whole game is over? It was scrapped in 2004 for being too harsh, and rightly so. Maybe it’s time pool rethinks this too. Just saying.

Anyway, Amy won. Not the result I wanted, but we move on. I took the opportunity to bow out, scoop up Alexander, and bring him home to bed while the others finished their drinks. Another very full, very fun day.