Letter from Espargal: 42 of 2009

We’ve had a delightfully damp and misty week. Some days the mist lies like a lake in the valley. A lake is exactly what we’d have if the kind of torrential rain that fell on Cumbria should fall on us. Other days it wreaths the hills, leaving the valley clear. We descend with great caution on such days; few local drivers turn on their lights just because it’s misty.

The wet weather is timely. It’s nourishing my bean seeds and the several new trees that we’ve planted, courtesy – like the others – of our neighbour, Idalecio, who continues with his garden improvements at a furious pace.

At the same time, the rain has been kind to the builders. Several houses are nearing completion (in a village small enough to make the prospect of new residents a big event.) One of these is Silvia’s house, on the brow of the hill 200 metres away. Silvia is the daughter of the Martins, the retired couple to whom we owe our arrival in Espargal. It was they who drew our attention to the land that we subsequently bought and built on. Silvia’s house has wonderful views in all directions. Our views are mainly to the north (although there’s a glint of distant ocean if one squints through the trees).

Also nearly done is the house that Dries, a tall spare Dutchman, is building himself at the end of our road. He and his wife, Bianca, are planning to move in shortly and to camp in the house while they complete it. Like most of us, they’re struggling through the bureaucracy that curses all building projects. While they wait for the stamp of approval on one or other document, they are “borrowing” electricity from a neighbour. We have lent them an old gas hob until such time as they get their own electricity supply.

In view of the dull weather we have allowed ourselves the occasional early fire. The wood-burning stove stands in the centre of the lounge. It heats the whole open-plan section of the house, everything except the bedrooms and bathrooms. From that point of view it’s wonderful. We’ve hardly used the central heating. The only disadvantage is that the fire dominates the room and makes it difficult to arrange the furniture so as to accommodate guests, animals, the TV and the dining room table.

We’ve hauled the sofas around, trying several layouts until we agreed on the best winter compromise. It takes in the dogs, the TV and the dining arrangements. We’ll worry about guests later. At this time of year, darkness falls shortly after 17.30. That makes for long evenings when good television is at a premium. We’ve been watching two series with special interest, one on the history of Christianity and another on life in Britain in the first half of the 20th century.

When there’s a football match of interest (to me) on Portuguese TV, Jonesy retires upstairs where she can either watch UK TV or listen to the radio. We beam the audio through to the bedroom, as well as having the option of listening anywhere in or around the house on (wireless) headphones. All these options we pretty much take for granted until the electricity goes down, as it often does during a storm. Then we have to hunt around for candles and a battery-powered radio to sustain ourselves in the flickering shadows until the juice comes back on again.

Tuesday we went to see Julia and Julie. Gastronomy is not my thing. But I’m a long time admirer of Meryl Streep – and we enjoyed the movie.

Thursday: After cleaning for us the previous day, Natasha returned to sort through several backpacks belonging to her former partner, Dani, which I’m storing at her request in Casa Nada. Of Dani himself little has been heard since his return to Romania a couple of years ago. Natasha has sought legal aid to obtain sole custody of their son, Alex. Until such time as she does, she is not able to take him across an EU border. More to the point, she can’t take him home to Russia, not even to introduce him to her family.

MORE MIST PICS

I spent an hour assisting her to overcome a couple of computer problems that she’d encountered with her new notebook. She’s a quick learner, a very bright young woman altogether.

While on this subject, let me add that I’m delighted with the MS Office 2010 Beta that I downloaded (after being tipped off by Llewellyn) and eventually managed to install. The problem was simply my impatience – or rather my expectations. When I ran the installation file, the computer threw up the usual hourglass and slowed to a snail’s pace. After a few minutes, I would give up and reboot.

MORNING GLORY

Eventually I left the computer to get on with it while I went off to do something else. Bingo! When I returned, the file had installed itself and I haven’t looked back. It’s a great programme. The only downside is that it runs out in October next year. At that point one either has to purchase it from Microsoft or install their next Beta in its place.

After lunch, I dropped Natasha and Jonesy in Loule before fetching a mechanic from an auto workshop to assist a friend whose car was stranded at his home with screeching disc brakes - run down to the metal. We thought the mechanic would try to fit new pads on the spot. But he said he needed to drive the car back to the workshop. Although the owner was dubious, it worked out. I drove just ahead in case of problems.

Friday we joined neighbours, Mike and Liz Brown, for lunch at the village of Cortelha, high in the hills. From a nearby vantage point, the site of a restored windmill, we could see half the Algarve, including our own distant village and house. Cortelha’s restaurant is well known for the range and quality of its food.

The wine list looked impressive too (although I opted for an alcohol-free beer as I enter my second month on the wagon. I’ve told Jones that I’ll come down from this sober perch either when I reach 85 kgs or at Christmas, which ever comes first. Right now, it’s looking like Christmas).

Cat update: A cushion-covered box against the upstairs railings is a favourite retirement spot for the cats. It provides ample space for one cat and sufficient space for two to curl up together, as is often the case. This week a third cat tried to join the pair already settled there. As so often, three proved to be a crowd. To get up, the intruder dug its claws into the cushion cover. The cushion started sliding off the box, startling the incumbents, who leapt up in alarm. Relieved of their weight, the cushion sailed through the bars and fell downstairs, along with one of the cats (which suffered no harm). The other two fled in terror.

Dreams update: No more bodies this week. Instead I found myself, as so often, back in the newsroom with an urgent assignment to complete and nowhere to work. I couldn’t find either a spare desk or a computer. I rushed around with a thick wodge of papers, growing ever more desperate.

Eventually I warned the editor that unless he could find me a place, he wasn’t going to get my assignment. In response, he directed me to talk to a taxi driver on the far side of the newsroom. (No, I haven’t figured it out either!) At that point I was grateful to wake up. I wish to heaven that I could switch off the part of my unconscious that is responsible for these endlessly frustrating nocturnal assignments.