No alarm clock. No phone. (No Chris Evans on the radio.)
Wind whistling around the building, sea growling, roaring, crashing, sucking. The tap of my fingers on the keyboard. The click and whirr of E's new camera. The whirr of the shutters going up and down. Dogs barking. Cocks crowing - one always sounds as if he's being strangled. Portuguese drivers beeping their horns, they appear to be communicating in a not-so-subtle language. Locals laughing good-humouredly at our attempts to communicate.
And if I'm being honest, the sound of the rain pattering, pouring off the scaffolding, dripping off my nose.
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