A few snaps from a winter weekend in Lisbon last month.

Don't be misled by the title of this post - I loved Lisbon. It was its imperfection, its air of incompleteness, that made it so endearing. A lot of major western cities have a polished sheen to them, but Lisbon just seemed very real, quite raw in parts.

There is a lot of ongoing construction work and it's clear that the city is still in the process of a big regeneration project. Some of the buildings by the waterfront stand unoccupied and derelict, nestling side by side with stunning, freshly tiled frontages. Slick modern trams run on the same tracks as the original 1930s models which rattle and clang through the streets.

There's a distinct lank of 'hipster' cafes and bars - don't get me wrong, my boyfriend and I are both suckers for a trendy venue and we did pay a visit to the 'cool' part of town, LX Factory, but it was refreshing to spend most of our time in the poky, smoky and incredibly cheap bars of the Bairro Alto or huddled against the cold, enjoying a beer at a simple but quaint quiosque de refresco.

But if there is one thing Lisbon does with sheer perfection, it's the custard tart.