A small chronicle of an English breakfast ... in Portugal.The hotel was a kind of palace (Casal Santa Virginia) that gave a cliff, come on, that gave even fear.In fact, in the surroundings, and also giving the cliff, several very old and very demolished houses favored a certain Hitchcockniano atmosphere.But let's go to the point.The receptionist had repeated us several times, "Breakfast from 9 to 11".In addition, we had read not very good criticism of breakfast, something like there was little variety.So at nineteen there we were.We enter, I see a dish with diverse biscuits, ummm, good looks, but scarce for all customers, it is not my problem, also varied fruit, enough for us.I take a variety of biscuits, small pieces, then I would go for the fruit;We sit down, Montse asks for bread, they bring it;We start, with my cagochitos, Montse with bread and butter (leaving aside the jams).In what appears in charge with a couple of huge vessels of natural orange juice, well, then with a plate of cold cuts, go, we continue eating ... Then the woman plants us on the table, which was definitely small, a dish with fourCrepes ... If ma'am, this is a good breakfast ... Ah, yes, I had enough insulin, so once the biscuits ended, I tied the crepes while Montse did the same with the fans.While all this happened another couple had appeared and sat next to us, they had also put us to set one of Mozart's symphonies, and of course, if we came up we looked up in cliff and the sea ... perfect, almost, almost,Because we see that the neighbors ... Tachan !!!It has a dish with fried eggs !!!!!And us?No, it had been forgotten, the woman was already apologizing and telling us that they left right away ...No, we did not eat them, we told him that it was not necessary, that if we were hungry we would already say it….And while Mozart was still sounding mixed with the noise of the waves, and insulin, drop by drop, entering without stopping.