Letter from Espargal: 37 of 2010

This week we find ourselves the reluctant foster parents to two keening kittens. We heard kittens crying as we walked on Thursday afternoon. While I distracted the dogs, Jones went for a peep and found four of them scattered around in the bush. Of mum there was no sign. She went back to leave food for the mother but found it untouched the following morning.

So we ummed and we aaahed. Sadly, unwanted litters are all too common and we suspect that this one had been dumped, as often happens. In the end Jonesy decided that she couldn’t just leave the kittens to die and went back for them. She found just two - cold, tangled in foliage and trapped under a rock. With a tin of enriched milk powder from the vet – 21 euros please – we assumed parental duties, sticking milky teats into their kittens’ squalling mouths and tickling their tummies to make them pee. Other members of our extended household are curious to say the least.

Midweek we celebrated 31 years of marriage with a visit to Faro fair. We go every year although we’re not sure why – as much for a dog-free outing and a tasty supper as for anything on show. Apart from the cars and tractors (in which I’m always interested) and possibly some furniture and clothing, the stalls are packed with glistering tat.

I find them slightly depressing, ditto the blaring music that fills the adjacent fair ground with its whirling dippers and scare-yourself-stupids. Wrist-watches go for 5-euros and clothing (“new collection”) for not much more. In spite of bottom basement prices, few people were buying and stall-holders were looking glum. The food was good, mind you, and watching people watching one another was fun.

A great deal of my time has gone into acquainting myself with my new smart phone. It’s very clever indeed. Configuring it and updating it with contacts has taken hours. Every so often I pause to consult the lengthy manual (which I downloaded). The most fascinating bit is to have the internet and my emails at hand at my bedside overnight and in my pocket during the day.

Until I acquired this phone (an HTC Desire with an Android heart), I’d had bought only Nokia models. As you are probably aware the Finnish company is lagging behind the smart-phone leaders (I see that Apple has recently overtaken Blackberry) and paying a heavy price. It’s scary how a small slip in the high tech stakes can leave such a vast enterprise in trouble.

Also in trouble this week was me when my new MS Office Suite refused to open several important (to me) spreadsheets. I’d been updating these records using a Beta version of MS Office 2010 that runs out at the end of this month. To avoid being caught short I downloaded the least expensive final version of Office 2010, which would have nothing to do with the spreadsheets, nor could I restore them by other means. I suspect the cause of the trouble was the corrupted hard disk that I replaced last month. I had a bad morning as I sought out my most recent uncorrupted back-ups and re-entered the missing data.

Well advised as bloggers are to exercise discretion in reporting the activities of their neighbours, there are things to be said. Our immediate ex pat neighbours, Sarah and David, are basking in the glow of a recent balloon flight in the Alentejo, a sprawling plain that lies beyond the mountains to the north of us.

Catching the balloon meant waiting (some time) for the right weather and then hightailing it northwards at sparrow-fart for a dawn take off. We were not around to witness the event. But the “Just landed, fantastic!” SMS from Sarah spoke for her elation and the pictures speak for themselves. The organisers provided an in-situ picnic at the landing site; i.e. wherever the balloon comes down.

Before I leave Sarah and David, let me report that we trotted over to inspect a wall that they have built to enhance their privacy. (They are great builders and seldom found without a trowel in their hands.) The wall obscures the view of their yard from the new house that has been built next door. It was at Jones’ suggestion that S&D included a number of coloured glass bricks in the wall, and an excellent suggestion it was, as you may judge for yourselves.


Sarah warned us when we went around for dinner not to lean against the structure as the plaster she had just applied to the bricks was still wet. A very practical sort Sarah is.

Still on the theme of neighbours, my tractor was called into use to remove a large quantity of gravel from the common entrance that leads to three houses - belonging to Chico & Dina, Fintan & Pauline and Olly & Marie.

The gravel, it emerged, had been ordered by old Chico as a mark of gratitude for the many favours done to him and Dina by his expat neighbours. It was intended to surface a parking/turning area which Chico had already had levelled in the field beside Fintan’s house – eliminating the need for the complex backing manoeuvre which Fintan has to perform to exit the property.

While I drove the tractor, Olly and Fintan did the shovelling. I would gladly have joined them at the oars were my back not so opposed to it. Not that I shirked! Driving a tractor backwards, while raising and lowering the box, is an underrated activity. Olly noted that the job might have taken less time had I been at the wheel of a larger tractor, a remark that I hastened to convey to Jones (who wasn’t impressed).

The post script to this report is that a day or two later Fintan got trapped in his own gravel and was grateful to be towed out. His SOS call arrived as Jones (the dogs) and I were attending the opening in Benafim of a small monument, constructed by Horatio, to honour a local benefactress.

All the council and parish bigwigs were there in their inevitable black suits, making speeches, uncovering plaques and being videoed for the regional news. Jones scrambled around taking some pictures of her own before retiring with neighbours to the Coral for refreshments.

The owners’ son, young Joey, was disappointed to learn that I wouldn’t be able to join him in a game of pool. Jones was hopeful that we might be able to return for the religious procession later in the day but with the kittens squalling to be fed every two hours and a host of tasks awaiting us, I have my doubts.



P.S. Our neighbours visited us this evening to admire the kittens at feeding time. After peering closely at the little souls, they informed us that the beasties looked more like puppies than kittens. And when we looked more closely we thought they were right. O Lordy! What now?

P.P.S. The following morning - at the sharp end of some emails asking whether we were going blind! Well, we were convinced from the start that they were kittens. And when you believe something, it colours yours perception......okay. No excuses! Will have to visit the vet again to some puppy food...ouch!