Some weeks leave a great frothing wake. Others slip past with barely a ripple, as this past week has done. The ripple in question bobbed our boat around on Monday evening when the diminutive Prickles went walk-about with Bobby - our second dog drama within a few days. Prickles, for all his “butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth” air, is sometimes possessed of a devil, as was the case on Monday. He gave a couple of yaps to explain that he needed a bit of space in his life before the pair of them vanished down the hill for an extended rabbit hunt. No amount of searching, calling and whistling produced any sign of the pair. Jones and I both thought of the Madeleine McCann case and the agonies that parents suffer when children go missing.
PRICKLESWe had a miserable supper on the patio. Jones was convinced that they’d fallen into a crevice or worse and that we’d never see them again. I resolved to put the little bastids on dry rations if they ever made it home. In the event, when they returned at midnight, hungry and VERY thirsty, I was so overjoyed that I showered them with treats. Talk about the prodigal sons! I woke Jones, who came downstairs to see them for herself. The sinners hardly looked up from their dishes.
LOADING MELONSThe other mini-drama of the week was to behold Jorge, the melon farmer, whizzing down the road on his buzzbike, closely followed by the GNR (the police force that operates in rural areas and small towns). We saw the GNR van parked on the roadside a few minutes later, with Jorge leading two officers towards the heart of his melon field.
When I bumped into him later, he confirmed that he’d been targeted by thieves. He reckoned that he’d lost about 1,000 kilos of melons. We didn’t have time to exchange more than a few words but I’ve little doubt that suspicion will fall on the gypsies, who are notorious for such thievery.
At last our road is officially named – Rua do Cercado. We still await our house number – not that it should make any difference to our postal address. We came across the team cementing in a stone on the next corner one hot afternoon. Zeferino, who may always be found in attendance on any such village developments, informed me that the two workers needed beers. They didn’t deny it so I went home to fetch a couple – for which the guys were grateful.
When I asked one of them if I could take his picture beside the name stone, he carefully deposited his beer in the back of his pickup before pretending to put the finishing touches once again to the cement with his trowel. He wanted any photos to reflect his hard labour, not his thirst, and I don’t blame him for it.
TEZ AIRCRAFTI often get photos emailed to me by an old contact of mine, an Australian doctor, Tez, who is among of group of ex-monks (myself included) who stay in cyber touch with each other. Tez is a hotshot photographer. He loves taking pictures of birds and aircraft.
TEZ HERONHis admitted idea of heaven is to camp on the fringes of the local airbase with his camera. His recent shots include the above picture of the navigator in the aircraft waving to him, and this one of a heron flying. The definition is quite remarkable.
MIKE A380I mailed the aircraft picture to another aviation freak, Mike, one of our regular housesitters. Mike admired it and responded by sending me a picture he had himself recently taken of the A380 Airbus landing at Heathrow. I’d hoped to see the plane myself while passing through Frankfurt recently. No luck.
My own attempt at arty photography – taken with my Nokia N95 cellphone – is this early morning “shadows on the fields” shot, which I snapped down in the valley as we were walking the dogs. You can see Prickles' lead clutched in my left hand.
Jonesy, on the right, was admiring the clouds. Algarvian summers tend to be blue- sky affairs and the odd cloud is really welcome. She took this picture of the fields and clouds a few seconds later. And I think it’s just as arty. Both have a French pastoral flavour to them.
No word yet from the carpenter about the new hall cupboard, nor from the lawyer about any developments re the registration of Casa Nada. So, as so often we wait. Happily there’s no rush for either, although I would hope to see the cupboard in place within a week or two.
Our Irish neighbours, Fintan and Pauline, assisted by Ollie, have been working hard on their new holiday house in the village – intended for holiday rentals.
Fintan and Ollie were raking gravel under a torrid sun when we arrived to deliver some ferns that Barbara was donating to the garden.
We were most impressed by the layout, a combination of different-coloured gravels, lawn and bark covering, separated by curving lines of rocks. The bark and gravels were laid over heavy plastic to discourage the weeds that would otherwise take over the place after the first rains. Boulders were studded around the exterior, some as sculptures and others dividing off one section of garden from another.
A workman was putting the finishing touches to the cobble drive-way that had been laid the same day. The house is being readied to take its first guests next month. It’s luxurious, with three bedrooms and three bathrooms en suite. Air-conditioning is provided throughout and a cool blue pool awaits dippers. No, I don’t get paid commission by Fintan. But I have no hesitation in recommending it.
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