how to get suitable items for wedding if the brides is busty

Lisbon 2.
Breakfast is a spectrum of delights from Mexican eggs to 'English Beans', from fresh fruit salad to every variety of cake and pastelleria known to modern human.

Fortified, our first tour commenced with a revisit to Praço do Comerco, but this time in full sunshine and windless balmy conditions. On the beach down from the paved expanse of the square, Pigeons peck at the sand in a tight group formation..... no dunlins or oyster catchers, but similar behaviour. Large tankers are at anchor in the estuary, to the west is an impressive suspension bridge and a small ferry crosses the expanse to the statue of Cristo Rei built in 1959 to commemorate Portugal's non involvement in the 2nd World War.

Onward, upward on the Rua Augusta to the St Justa Elavador, a lift up a grey gothic tower looking like a cross between metal Big Ben and a miniature Tour Eiffel. At the top, exiting the ageing wooden cabin, we catch the panoramas afforded by the gain in height. Then a short walk on the new level to Largo do Carmo with a ruined church, jacaranda trees and a young woman charming the site with Suzanne Vega like clarity as she sings her own songs to major sevenths on guitar. We sat for twenty minutes or more soaking up the sun and savouring the moment as we took on board the beauty of the scene.
Then a descent on worn stairs to the National Theatre and the evocative facade of the Rossi station with its two horse shoe arched entrance doors and architecture from the 1900's Modernista style of Barcelon's Palau de la Música Catalana.
Then up to Restauradores with a pink Art Deco cinema now converted into a hotel and a tourist information centre that advised us that the best way to the Jardim Botanico is by funicular: Elevador do Gloria. We jump at the chance.
The expected bright yellow tram is completely covered in graffiti. And the length of the track is spattered with graffiti from bottom to top. Like on a walk down the Ouseburn at home in Newcastle, I found the thrill of seeing exciting well executed graffiti was tainted by the graffitistas' lack of respect for materials, other artists' work and the apparent need to spell out tags in huge letters like a ten year old's note book cover.

Anyway, the rewards at the top were fabulous views from Miradouro de São Pedro and closer proximity to our goal: the Botanical Garden. We're now in the Bairro Alto district. It feels a bit up market, with smart design shops interesting eating holes.
We opt for a light lunch on Praça do Principe Real, after photographing a huge hundred year old cedar which enhances the gardens alongside ficus trees and an araucaria.
Underground, masked by a shallow pond, is a giant cistern which connects by tunnel to another reservoir a km or so away. The water is only a few cm deep today. And it's a museum, a curiosity, now. With the lighting that's provided the best bit is when a drip lands on the surface and causes ripples and reflections of ripples ( memories of wave tanks in physics lessons).

Our lunchtime pavilion on the Praça is charming, and the sun beams in to cheer our northern hearts. My roast beef, beetroot and horseradish sandwich washed down with Sagres beer hold similar benefits.
Now along Rua da Escola to the Jardim Botanico. ..... it's closed for renovation. The tourist office man may, or should, have known but has sent us on a very pleasant wild goose chase. We're philosophical about it.... the route has pleased, despite the latter horticultural disappointment.
Down Rua de Século from Real with happen upon the Convento dos Cardais. The 'Thistle Convent' was built on spiky open ground in the 16th century by a rich widowed woman who retired to a life of solitude in a a convent near by. But her riches must have been burning a hole in her pocket 'cos she financed the Cardais convent which took thirty years to build. She housed Carmelite bare footed nuns in the convent but didn't actual become a nun herself. The main church is covered in Dutch and Portuguese tiles and oil paintings, and down the altar end there is more gold than you could imagine could be shipped from Brazil in those times. how to get suitable items for wedding if the brides is busty
There was a coach visit made by French amateur artists concurrently with our guided tour. They were remarkable not so much for the painted tile that each achieved, but more because of the black aprons and black berets that each individual sported. It was like some garlic or sausage society that a certain type of Français(e) allies him or herself to, involving ritual and dressing up. They painted in a beautiful blue-tiled cloister shaded by thorny orange trees with intensely coloured bitter fruit contrasting with the lush dark green foliage.
Last find of the day was Miradouro de S. Catarina. The young hipsters of Lisboa were there, hang in' out, with a sinking sun, busking alto sax and melodica players duetting to a amplified karaoke track battling a djembe / djun djun duo a few yards away. We found a romantic bar to the west end of the viewing point and ordered Americano coffees, largely away from the din, and watched the sun maintain its golden brightness despite the hour.... eventually opting to move on to the posh old shops of Rua Garrett, and home before the celestial orb fell and matched the colour of the oranges fruits we'd enjoyed earlier.