How posh hotels describe theft

Lisbon: sunny, warm, blue skies. The first time I came here must have been nearly 25 years ago with my old friend Denis Kilcommons who wanted to research a location for one of his thrillers.

Not much has changed in the interim: the faded sandy facades with their green shutters and red tiled roofs, yellow funicular cars, the tiny cobbles laid mosaic-style in the streets, the seafood smells, mixed with a faint odour from the drains in the old quarter - everything is as it should be.

I like Lisbon. It's friendly and civilized, nowhere near as smart as Madrid but all the more relaxed because of that. It's quiet too at this time of year - not many spies about.

I don't recall how Denis used the research in his book. In fact I don't remember much about our weekend apart from strolling around the narrow streets and drinking in the cafes. But I do remember we had a hire car and drove out to Sintra and the Pena National Palace decorated in the romantic style. The archtiect had gone overboard in his use of shells, magpies and swans.

I'm staying at the Meridien, another one of those hotels that charges rip-off rates for internet access in your hotel room.

There's a card with the dressing gown in my room. It says:

"This bathrobe has enjoyed considerable success among our guests, to the extent that some particularly enthusiastic customers have become 'collectors of Le Meridien bathrobes.' While we recognise that this initiative helps spread the reputation of our establishment we nevertheless urge our most fervent supporters to make an effort to separate themselves from this admittedly endearing garment when they leave. (Alternatively, a bathrobe may be obtained in exchange for a few dollars)."

I wonder if Keith Moon ever stayed here.