More likely than not, if Britain had a long established chain of State-owned hotels it would not be much good.

There would be long waiting lists to get in. And demoralised staff- worn down by years of underfunding - would be subsiding helplessly beneath an avalanche of central directives, performance targets, assessment schemes and report requirements.

Yet Portugal has managed to create just such a chain - and it i a great success.

The first 'Pousada' (the word, with calculated understatement, means 'inn' or 'stopping place') was established in 1942. Now there are more than 40 of them, spreading from Valenca do Minho in the far north of the country to Sagres at its south-westerly tip.

Many, though not all, are in converted historical monuments, such as castles, palaces, convents and manor houses. The others, either purpose-built or converted from more modest buildings, have been sited in what a succession of Portuguese tourism ministers considered to be particularly interesting and beautiful places.

This makes progress from one Pousada to another a deliciously convenient way of discovering the country.

Our Pousada-led itinerary took us from Ourem, the medieval hilltop town perched above the flatlands of Beira Litora, north of Lisbon, to Alcacer do Sal, overlooking the broad curve of the river Sado; down through the golden plains of the Alentejo, where the spreading cork trees stand like beach umbrellas upon a rolling inland lido; to the whiter-than-white town of Serpa.

Then over the harsh arid uplands and steep river valleys into the Algarve; and to S. Bras de Alportel, close to Faro, with its international airport and convenient flights back to Britain.

Portugal, at least in May, is excellent driving country. Away from the jams of Lisbon, traffic is light, certainlyf or anyone used to the British road network.

And off the main routes it is scarce, the countryside is varied and only mildly scarred by the recent rash of EU-funded building works.

There are great things to be seen - World Heritage Sites such as the bristling late Gothic abbey church at Batalha, or the architectural treasures of Evora (not the least of which is the baroque chapel made entirely from human bones).

Most of the towns and villages yield something of interest to the traveller; a tile-decorated church, a carved stone portal, a donkey pulling a cart down a cobbled street, a cafe selling interesting local cake - usually containing almonds or custard or both.

And, if driving in general is pleasurable, driving to a Pousada is particularly so.

In a country that rather scrimps on such things, Pousadas are always very well signposted: a succession of large, easy to read blue placards will guide you to the sanctuary of the reception desk.

Dark blue is the Pousada livery. The 'good night chocolate' left on your pillow comes in a dark blue wrapper.

And the staff members all wear dark blue blazers. They tend to be young and helpful, and all had better English than my Portuguese.

Dark blue blazers and chocolate wrappers are about the only features common to all Pousadas. One of the charms of the chain is that each one is different - in its size, its decor, its character and its price.

A double room at the swankiest, voer a weekend during the high season, would cost you £134 a night; a more modest sport would be less than half of that.

The Pousadas we stayed at included a stylish, purpose-built Sixties block (Serpa), a chic conversion of the 15th Century episcopal buildings (Ourem), and what looked like an over-large surburben hacienda (S. Bras de Alportel).

The best, however, was Alfonso II's vast severe castle at Alcacer do Sal, where the medieval simplicity of the building had been matched by a restrained modernism.

The architect who carried out the conversion used dark wood, plain stone and naturally dyed fabrics to achieve somethingthat looks like a photo spread from the style magazine Wallpaper, but is comfortable as well.

Pousadas celebrate local culture. Each ones restaurant makes great play of its regional specialities.

We were offered dishes made from acorn-fed portk amid cork-oaks at Serpa; and I'm sure that on our drive up to Ourem we saw a close relative of the rabbit that was waiting for us, wrapped in cabbage leaves, on our dinner table.

Somet of the cooking was very good (the soft meringue pudding at Ourem was even better than the rabbit) and some rather more modest in both ambition and achievement.

The Pousada management has, it seems, recently caught up with the Seventies enthusiasm for piped music.

The preferred play list shifts between Vivaldi's Four Seasons and the sounds of the Amazonian Rainforest.

This is unfortunate. A selection of the appropriate regional folk music would be more in keeping with the Pousada tradition. And, from the little I heard of Portuguese folk music, it might have the benefit of making enough people complain for the din to be silenced for ever.