When (Idalecio’s heavily pregnant bitch) Serpa failed to appear at the fence this morning we suspected that her pups were on the way. Jones was anxious to ensure that the confinement was going well. But we couldn’t find our key to Idalecio’s gate. So we went through the pockets of all our work clothes. No luck. Then we searched upstairs and downstairs. Still no luck. Jones seemed to recall that I had been the last person to use the key. When we retraced our movements, however, she emerged as the more likely suspect. Eventually I stuck two fingers down one of the small pockets in the jacket she was wearing and – yes – there it was. What would she do without me, I wanted to know. To her credit, she looked a little sheepish.
So we made our way down Idalecio’s drive to see how Serpa was doing. Little squeaking sounds came from the recess, under an outside sink, where she sleeps (having given her new kennel the paw’s down). Serpa wasn’t pleased to see us and growled to let us know that we should keep our distance. We did. The responsibilities of maternity clearly weighed heavily upon her. Jones is anxious to know how many pups there are. (There are two, as we discovered the following day).The week has flown. Sunday the rain poured down – lovely, lovely rain. We had a couple of cracking thunderstorms as well. We count the seconds between the lightning flashes and the thunderous booms that follow. When the interval gets down to two or three seconds, I pull out the electric plugs.
The dogs hate the storms. They’re brave enough when they’re chasing cats (strongly discouraged) or rabbits but when there’s thunder they come creeping to us for comfort. Jones cradled Ono and Stoopy while I checked the electrics. The electricity kept going off but only for a few seconds before it kicked in again.
While we always walk the dogs on leads, we generally let them off close to the house for a run-around in the fields. They’re lovely to watch as they chase each other in circles – so agile and graceful. Jones was admiring their capers the other day when Ono suddenly ran full-tilt into her and knocked her to the ground. Next she got clawed through her jacket by Squinty, a large, docile black cat which has adopted us and generally devotes himself to ankle-rubs in the house or garden. I don’t know what got into him. Maybe he just wasn’t getting enough attention.
The first exciting orchids are out. The /dull/ orchids make their appearance in January but one has to wait until late February for the /naked man, pyramid/ and /early purple/ varieties. That’s all we’ve seen so far. You need to keep your eyes peeled to spot them. They’re like little jewels hidden in the countryside.After Portuguese lessons on Monday we took ourselves to Faro to see an early afternoon screening of /Michael Clayton/. I thought it a great movie. Jones found it a little intense. When I asked her at the interval what she thought of it, she said that she wished it were over. But I think she enjoyed it. Next I want to see /There Will Be Blood/ and /No Country for Old Men/.
Our travels loom large – in fairly quick succession to Germany in March, the UK in April and Canada in May. I have had my head deep in cyberspace for hours, seeking flights, B&Bs, hotels (ideally comfortable with huge discounts for “seniors”), places to visit and all the rest of it. I’m making progress. I peered longingly at the “premium economy” seats that BA offers to Canada but I couldn’t bring myself to fork out double the economy fare, much as I’d love the extra space. Jones would blanch even to learn that I’d been looking. (If ever I win the lottery, it’s first class travel thereafter.)
The hardest bit has been trying to match commitments, internal flights and ferries in Canada. After meeting up with the Joneses in Vancouver, we plan to visit Vancouver Island and are hoping to take a ferry ride up the amazing passages towards St Rupert. But the ferry sails only on certain days and we’re still trying to find a winning formula that embraces all our ideas.On Tuesday I enquired of Dani what progress he had made in court the previous day with his assault claim against two Moldovians who attacked him. He had spoken hopefully the previous week of being awarded some three thousand euros in damages. We were highly dubious. In the event he reported that his (not very visible) injuries had been examined by a doctor. That was all. He had no idea when the case would come to court. It isn’t likely to be soon. Portuguese justice grinds along very slowly indeed. I thought that Dani would be better off dropping the case and going to seek his fortune in Italy, as he had intended. He thought so too.
He and I spent the day bringing in pruned branches, mulching what we could and burning off what we couldn’t. It was my first real working day in over two months and I was very pleased to see that it didn’t provoke a renewed bout of sciatica. I am just about back to normal and I feel like I’m floating around (except when I sneeze; that still hurts). Strange that we have to remind ourselves by being ill every so often just how good it is to be well.
We’ve stopped by Fintan’s cottage several times to see how the restoration is coming along. And the answer is pretty well. (I was trying to explain to my English class how the English language allows someone to be /pretty ugly/ – but that’s by the by.) The work is being carried out by Nelson, the son of the local builder, Horacio. The arrangement is felicitous. Dad builds houses and son paints them. What’s more, he paints them jolly well. Nelson explained that in the worst damaged parts of the house he was using two coats of (very expensive) primer, followed by two over-coats.
Some parts required only a single coat of primer. We were impressed by the results – and told him so.Fintan told us that he’d got back his two missing “stuffed toy dogs”, largish animals that used to guard the stairs. He’d come looking for them a couple of weeks ago, searching through the pile of boxes in Casa Nada to see if they had been packed away after the fire. They hadn’t. His suspicions fell on Dina, whose pilfering habits are becoming a bit of a nuisance. When he failed to find several other possessions as well, he marched across to Dina’s adjoining cottage and, with old Chico’s full support, started searching for the missing items.
He didn’t find them all (Dina hides them away) but he found several and was delighted to get his dogs back. Dina had used electric cord (in one case) and ribbon to make collars for the dogs. It was quite pathetic. Jones wonders whether it would help if we bought her a large soft toy.
I have my doubts. It won’t stop her pilfering. (Dina is a very large woman who never learned to talk but who is smart and can be very noisy, especially if upset.)
Chico and Dina twice turned up on our doorstep, each time with half a sack of oranges and a 5-litre bottle of (first) moonshine and (then) olive oil. Chico informed me that at the age of 83 he was going to make an honest woman of Dina (48) and marry her .
I didn't express my doubts. I can't see how Dina could either consent to be married or understand what marriage entails. Whatever the case, Chico wanted his fields ploughed. I was happy to oblige.
I took my tractor down to Vitor, the mechanic, one afternoon to get him to look at the brake lights.
They were coming on and staying on if I so much as touched the brakes. Vitor put a piece of cardboard on the floor and slid himself under the tractor to remove the offending part. A couple of his neighbours sat around passing the time as people do in Espargal. When the farmers don’t have work in the fields, they simply wander around the village and engage their neighbours in conversation. I’m all in favour.Anyhow, Vitor retrieved a small cylinder and sprayed it with oil and cleaned it before putting it back and informing me that the problem had been solved.
He wouldn’t take any money for it. It was just a little job, he said. So I presented him with the bottle of wine that I’d brought along in anticipation. There’s so much to be said for good neighbours – and ours are among the best.
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