The large courtyard at the Forum was ablaze with a vast artificial tree. As much as I resent the arrival of Christmas in November (when Advent’s abstinence would be more pertinent), I had to admire the tree. It is so big that I had difficulty capturing the whole image with my phone camera. Our real digital camera, a Canon Ixus, has given up the ghost. No, I exaggerate. The camera’s not quite dead but all it records now are fuzzy spectra. I know nothing about the innards of a digital camera but our guests, Mike and Lyn, who are camera buffs, suggested a failed “CCD” – a charge-coupled device.
A google search soon revealed numerous unhappy camera owners complaining about the failings of these sensors. Like ourselves, the complainants found that their cameras suddenly ceased to function. Those with cameras under warranty, or who tried to claim insurance, were generally accused of having dropped the camera – a charge that all denied. The long and the short of it is that it’s cheaper to buy a new camera than a new CCD.Also reaching the end of their lives were two of my long-suffering Tilley hats. (For the uninitiated, Mr Tilley – a Canadian – claims to make the best cotton hats in the world, and probably does.) Mine have borne the heat and burden of the years, being much patched and repaired in the process. Hard-wearing as they are, they don’t last the claimed life-time. However – and this is the point – Tilley guarantees to replace free of charge any (properly-registered) hat that is honestly worn out.
So, I posted the two old hats along to Mr Tilley in Toronto, along with a picture of me wearing his headgear (I look remarkably like him) and a polite note, wondering whether he’d like to send me one new hat for two old ones.
Sure enough, this week a parcel arrived from Canada. In it were TWO new Tilley hats, together with the old ones. All I had to pay was the postage. Well, I tell you, Mr Tilley has a customer for life. I regret that in the best of worlds I can’t see myself wearing out all my Tilleys - both new “work” hats, my existing work hat and 3 “going-out” Tilleys – one that I bought, one from Mum and one from Mike Nash. I might just set up a Tilley shop, aimed at people with big heads.Tuesday evening, after dropping Natasha at the Alto Fica bus stop (5 mins away), we retired into the adjacent Madrugada (Daybreak) café for a coffee and a stiff baggy.
We needed the baggy after spending much of the afternoon searching for two awol dogs, which Jones eventually discovered exhausted in the back of beyond and we brought home in the car.
THE BOYS
From Natilia, behind the bar, we heard that the statue of the Virgin
from Fatima would be processing from the hamlet to Espargal on the evening of the 20^th . We knew that the image was spending a couple of weeks in this area as part of an extended tour of Portugal. The faithful will march in procession behind the statue, holding candles, along the 2 km route to the village.
SCHOOL BEING PAINTEDThe statue will stop for a service at the school, which is being repainted for the occasion. We shall probably go along, even if we have to admit to joining the ranks of the merely curious. Fatima is important to our more pious neighbours, most of whom have visited the shrine.
Among the gathered patrons in the café was Jorge Vieira, a serious local farmer, who spends his summers working in the fields and his winters hunting.
He invited us to help ourselves to his tomatoes, as they'd been damaged by the rain and he was no longer picking them. And so we did. We could have filled a truck. Jorge confided that he’d be going after wild boar under a (nearly) full moon the following evening. He waits for them, rifle fitted with night-sight at the ready, in his pick-up. He’d already baited the target area with piles of almond nuts, which the piggies simply adore. I wished him luck. Jones said she was on the side of the piggies.What success he had, I haven’t heard. What I can tell you is that he somehow graunched the big scarifier he hauls behind an even bigger tractor, shearing the heavy metal arms. The force must have been terrific – probably caused by the teeth hooking under a rock. The local welder, Dinis, was preparing to fix the thing when I took my own scarifier around to him on Thursday to have plough plates attached to it.
Thursday morning we took leave of Mike and Lyn, who have returned to their home on the Isle of Wight. Like us they revel in the Portuguese countryside and, ironically, they know a great deal more about the flora and fauna than their hosts. They were lucky with the weather. The current 10-day forecast shows 10 little suns. A little rain would be so welcome.
YAPPER HOUSEOur moment of drama came this week as we were passing a house where several little dogs often come hurtling out to protest at our passage. They’re harmless but very distracting and tend to upset our lot. As we were keeping an eye on the yappers, Ono suddenly dived into a hedge. Simultaneously there came a loud squawk from the hedge, a shriek from Jones and a great tug on Ono’s lead. Ono came flying back out of the hedge with his mouth full of feathers and got severely reprimand for his sins. I could find no sign of the assaulted bird. Hopefully, only its plumage suffered.
THE CHICKENSAlso suffering, but far more severely, has been the pound sterling against foreign currencies. We watched in dismay as it nose-dived against both the euro and the dollar. The British government is saddling itself with debt in a bid to ride out the recession and the side-effects for pound-paid expats are really bruising. Oh for the heady days when the pound fetched a 1.6 euros plus . It’s now (10.15 on Friday morning) 1.16 and heading for parity. One starts to understand how the Icelanders are feeling. Some of those Tilley hats may come in useful when we sing for our supper.
This multi-legged little fellow was spotted by Jones as she crossed the road. I don't know whether he packs a sting. I didn't fiddle around with him. He brought back old memories to my wife, who was woken up in bed at the Quinta one night by one of his mates. It was crawling across her body. (Jones doesn't "do" pyjamas). She nearly freaked. She still shudders at the memory.
And finally, while we're into images, I was tickled pink by the HIS and HERS signs outside the loos at Odeceixe during our recent visit to the Alentejo. We had to look twice. That's imagination for you.
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