Letter from Espargal: 25 of 2009

DOMESTIC HARMONY
This week I have levelled a patch of the garden and built a rockery. I can see you shrug as you read this. After all, you may think, a rockery is not exactly a pyramid and doesn’t require a great many rocks. Well, I can tell you that to build a rockery acceptable to other members of this household, takes a lot of rocks and not just any rocks. The pharaohs might have built more impressive rockeries than mine but they had more workers and their projects did not have to meet their spouses’ expectations.

There’s a sloping section of the garden under the trees with which Jones has felt dissatisfied for some time. She said she wanted to be able to sit out there on level ground. What she envisaged, she explained, was a low retaining wall, supporting a level area on which we could place a bench or two and entertain guests - not that we’re short of benches or places to entertain guests!

My heart quailed, given that I was the intended work force. In truth I could find little enthusiasm for the project or the amount of (mid-summer) work it entailed. Even so, I felt obliged to show good will. So, cursing the flies that buzzed around my ears, I embarked on what I hoped might prove an acceptable alternative, really just a scaled-down version.

After preparing the ground with a hoe and surrounding it with rocks, I took the tractor to fetch a load of fine gravel while Jones laid down a thick layer of weed-impeding newspapers. The area concerned was smaller than she had envisaged but she conceded that it looked good and would serve the purpose.

Barely had we finished laying the gravel and admiring our handiwork than Jones pointed to the slope behind the gravel patch. This still looked scruffy and unfinished, she complained. Could it not be levelled too? (In the military this is known as “mission creep”.)

I proposed a rockery as the most practical and decorative solution. Although dubious my wife was not opposed. So I set about creating a truly beautiful rockery. It took four days to build. Each day I drove the tractor down to the rocky fields that surround the village and crawled back home bearing a great load of rocks. I had to reverse half a kilometre up Espargal hill to ensure that none of them fell off.

Many of the rocks around here are works of nature’s art - twisted and twirled, full of holes and knobbly bumps. I wrestled them off the back of the tractor and down into position. Not only do they look good, they also now serve to support the tractor track – a case of killing two birds with one rockery. For good measure, we planted a couple of succulents among the rocks.

Next we need to purchase some more benches. Marie tells us that they are on sale half an hour down the road at Guia. We shall take a look. Jones, as ever, spends much of her time tending and watering her garden.

Another project, a much smaller one, that called for a meeting of minds, was the transfer of several years’ worth of (largely unread) garden magazines from the cupboard in the hallway to the study. The cupboard is due to be moved shortly, and replaced by a made-to-measure cabinet. (The carpenter reports a “small delay” in obtaining some of the required wood.)

Anyhow, the magazines came upstairs to the study, where Jones wanted to store them on shelves attached to the walls. I protested that the weight of the magazines would bring the shelves down and suggested that we move my files up to the shelves and the magazines down. This would make my files much easier to reach. Jones didn’t like this idea (although she went along with it) on the grounds that the files looked ugly.

And there lies the nub (rub?) of a great many conversations between us. Jones’s primary concern with things is how they look. And mine is how they work. Countless times these past 30 years we have had to find a compromise in such matters. (Jones, checking my letter, protests that only the most dedicated reader is going to finish it – and that I make her out to be a cranky eccentric but you will know her well enough.)

Twice this week we have gone out and come home to find that we have left the keys in the front door. I fear that we’ve done the same thing a great many times before, generally when we’re distracted. No harm has come of it. There’s much to be said for living at the end of a one-way system in a small Portuguese village.

We have had another stray in the village, a small, nervous, ribby, black dog wearing a collar. It tried to camp in the grass between our house and Idalecio’s for a few days. Our pooches, forgetful of their own heritage, told it to burger off – or else. We put out food and water, some of which was consumed – but whether by the stray is hard to know. After several days it appears to have moved on.

There’s a lizard that likes to spend its days on the inside of the metal door into Casa Nada. Each time I enter the building, the lizard flees along the wall. It can actually leap from the door to the wall and still keep its grip. Once the coast is clear, the lizard takes up its station on the door once again. This typically happens twice a day. I’ve been trying to persuade the lizard that it’s safe to remain on the door but it’s a lost cause.

As usual in high summer, we are attending the local fairs. Last weekend was Sao Bras, always a favourite, though we were disappointed by the number of stalls selling trashy knick-knacks. Sadly, there is a very limited demand for the traditional leather and basketwork crafts. Cheap jewellery is more in vogue.


We took a look at the art stalls but found them too lurid for our tastes. At least the tractors were up to standard. There’s something reassuring about looking at tractors – not a sentiment that Jones would necessarily share.

UPDATE: Saturday evening we went along to the Benafim fair, together with our neighbours and the visiting Ferretts (Grant is with the BBC World Service). The menu is simple and yet adequate. You can have barbecued chicken or stewed chicken or a kind of maize porridge (which I love) with a sprinkling of meaty bits on it - and a great choice of cakes to follow.

BENAFIM FAIR

The locals gather round for a song from the children followed by lots of folk music and dancing - guys with girls, girls with girls, guys with guys. You can suit yourself. The fair is intended to raise funds for a retirement home in Benafim.

We had earlier taken along a few items to the community centre to add to the “kermesse” prizes.
WITH THE FERRETTS

I was remarking to Grant, who joined us with his family for a walk through the countryside, that these fairs are characterised by a great deal of good nature. There’s as much beer and wine available as one wants to drink but I can’t recall seeing anyone the worse for wear – or misbehaving. Long may it last.