Letter from Espargal: 43 of 2009

No journalist ever shot to fame by confessing that there was little to report. And I should never dream of doing so either. But there are weeks when one has to lay out a rather modest news stall and hope that clients will not be too fussy about the contents.

As so often, it’s not that nothing has happened. Some lovely things have. The issue is how to convey them to you. For instance, the rising of the moon on Wednesday and Thursday evenings was something extraordinary to behold. We tried to take pictures of it from the upstairs balcony but our point-and-click cameras were hardly equal to the task. The little yellow dot in the middle of our pictures bore scant resemblance to the glorious orb climbing over the eastern hills.

CRYSTAL PATH

Nor is it easy to describe the stony treasures that we have brought back from our walks. Most are small pieces of quartz that we dig out of the beaten track and add to Jones’s crystal garden path. Every now and then we come across a really stunning piece, or a glittering rock that has to be carted back on the tractor. We are spoiled for rocks that are works of art in their own right.

Jones has spent a couple of weeks lugging back two hefty specimens, especially pleasing to the eye. She moves them in relays, 25 metres a day closer to the house. I am not allowed to touch them, officially because they may upset the balance of my ever fussy back; unofficially, I suspect, because she wants the pilgrim’s satisfaction of completing the course herself.

She has also been employing her language skills to assist a French family that is renting a house in the village (while one member receives daily physiotherapy sessions from Jodi following a ski accident that has landed him in a wheelchair). On their behalf we have obtained a supply of citrus fruit from a local farmer and negotiated the loan of a bicycle, as well as assisting them with travel information for a visitor.

DAWN

My good deed for the week was to let friends, the ones with the screechy disc brakes, know when their car was ready to collect from the workshop. Sneer not! The information was not easily come by. It took two phone calls and three visits to the workshop. The difficulty arises because, like similar small enterprises in these parts, the place is run by the boss and his assistant. They don’t employ a secretary, they don’t appreciate phone calls and they shut up shop when they have to assist clients elsewhere. On the other hand the bills are proportionately modest, paperwork is minimal and cash goes a long way.

We are awaiting a phone call from Nelson to let us know when he is coming to paint the interior of the house. Our books and other possessions are gathering dust in the centre of the bedroom, where they have been awaiting his arrival these past three weeks. Nelson is aware that we are expecting guests, Llewellyn and Lucia, a week before Christmas and outwardly confident that the job will be done in good time. Jones does not share his confidence.

Also awaited is a visit from a Brit who is supposed to be installing locks on our sliding doors. After a 10 month exchange of emails and phone-calls, he arranged to call on Tuesday. He didn’t arrive, nor did he phone to apologise. I called (“his clutch had failed)"– and we agreed on Friday. This morning he phoned to ask if he could make it Saturday instead, as he has “an urgent leak” to attend to. We are underwhelmed.

Our weather has continued largely cloudy and mild, with occasional showers that deposit a disappointing three or four mils in the rain gauge. It’s 30 or 40 that we need to top up our exhausted dams and boreholes. Better a slice, we tell ourselves, than no bread. But a loaf or two would be welcome.

PIGGY PRINTS

It may have come to your attention that we have entered the 12^th and final month of the year, with all that brings and implies. “Months” are what I’ve been doing with my English class – exploring their names as we tackle the theme of the calendar. Are you aware that eight months are named after Roman emperors, deities and festivals/seasons, while another four simply derive from the Latin words for 7, 8, 9 &10?

THOR - THURSDAY

The days of the week are similarly located in the Roman and Norse pantheons. It fascinates me that although for hundreds of years the Christian church in Europe dictated the annual pattern of life with its religious calendar, it never elbowed out the ancient deities. It just absorbed them. One elderly pupil complained that this was all far too abstruse for the class but she was voted down by those who agreed that it should be general knowledge.

Our week has been rather louder than usual. This is partly because a public holiday gave the hunters an additional opportunity to wage their noisy warfare in the countryside. And partly because of new arrivals in Espargal, specifically of the dog and horses that have accompanied our new neighbours, Dries and Bianca. The couple have (“has”, if you prefer) set up house 200 metres away at the corner of the road. Don’t misunderstand me. Their animals are perfectly well behaved. It’s ours that make the noise.

We passed Bianca in the rain one morning as she rode her horse over to Espargal from the house they’d been renting in Cruz da Assumada. Subsequently we’ve found hoof prints in the mud along the narrow hill paths that we tread most days. This was a little bit worrying. Bobby, whom we inherited from an elderly Portuguese, is highly-strung and ill-disciplined, and we don’t want him upsetting the neighbours.

In spite of our best efforts, the dogs regard this corner of the village as their personal fiefdom and will rush to the fence to see off any passing creature. They get equally upset whether the offender is passing the property or being passed in the car. To discourage them Jones has been using a borrowed appliance that gives off a high-pitched tone disagreeable to canines. I’ve also tried putting the brakes on sharply to throw the two principal barkers at the back off balance but it’s well-mannered Ono who tends to go flying instead. Life was never simple. We’re working on it.