The neurotic ex-pat woman I’m squeezed in next to on this budget flight to Faro leans forward and closes her eyes in an ecclesiastical manner as we touch down on the runway. While the plane rolls towards the terminal she tells me it’s 35 degrees outside. 35 degrees? When we’d looked at the forecast for Portugal, pre- booking, we’d been informed that the temperature would be a very pleasant 25ish! And it’s gone 8pm, too!

Still- we’re here and stumbling off towards arrivals, hot or not. And it is very warm standing in the queue to have passports scrutinised- warm enough to induce a nasty fit in one of the waiting visitors, who falls to the floor, convulsing. The Portuguese airport staff spring into action, running in with first aid packs and all is restored.

We’re transported to our hotel by a rotund taxi driver. It’s a 40 minute journey, though not unpleasant- even though the driver’s musical tastes do not exactly match our own.

I don’t recognise or recall the outskirts of Tavira, which we visited over 20 years ago. Our hotel is in a commanding, elevated position on top of a hill and quite central, but we are to discover that the steep climb back to it is taxing in high temperatures.

We stumble into the cool of the air-conditioned reception area and are offfered a welcome drink of…wine. ‘White or Red?’ I make a tentative request for a beer, which is turned down. So much for that then-

Having checked in, we go up to find our room, which is at the end of a long, long corridor- it’s a little unnerving due to the decor, fake panelling concealing all the rooms’ doors and illuminated by floor lights- all very strange. But the room is fine, has a balcony and overlooks the hotel pool.

We’ve arrived late, having not eaten but the hotel’s restaurant is still open, although we are in almost solitary splendour, with only one other couple dining there. An enormous array of starters is arranged around an oval buffet – just about anything and everything, and it’s tempting to try a bit of everything- except that we’ve a main course to get through, too. I’ve found, these days that multiple courses are way too much. I could happily have done with starter only.

We discover that the top floor of the hotel houses an open air bar and it’s marginally cooler up there, with views over the top of tavira, a pleasant enough way to end our first evening.

Next morning the dining room is vastly changed and is teeming with diners. A pianist at a grand piano accompanies the activity with a selection of easy-listening musak. I’m not a breakfaster at home, but here where it’s included I’m happy with some fruit, eggs and toast.

We decide, on this first day, to chillax, preparing, then making our way down to the pool. There’s a hiatus when we are baffled as to the route but it’s via a large balcony on the ground floor then down some steps. Again, the weather is extremely hot and not condusive to sitting in the sun, though by the looks of the sunbeds this opinion is not shared by everyone, as most residents are roasting themselves to a scarlet crisp in the sweltering rays.

In the hotel lifts, stern instructions about not bagging sunbeds in advance are posted up. Even so, we must hunt for them and when we do locate two, we haul them across to the shade, where we stay, reading and dozing.

While it’s still hot, in the evening we brave the oven-like temperature and stroll down to the little town square, which has plenty of bars and cafes. It’s pretty and characterful- just the place for an evening beer and a meal al fresco…

For fiction by me, Jane Deans, search for novels: The Conways at Earthsend [an eco-thriller] and The Year of Familiar Strangers [mystery drama]. Visit my website: janedeans.com