Letter from Espargal: 9 of 2011

Wednesday is as good a place to start as any. That morning I forgot to fetch Natasha from the bus in Benafim. This omission I blame on a diversion from our usual midweek pattern. Because we had a guest dog staying with us for a few days and doubted that we could fit seven dogs amicably in the car, we abandoned our usual practice of driving down for a walk in the valley before continuing on to the bus stop. Instead we trekked off around the back of the hill. It was Jones who remembered Natasha and reminded me. I followed hard on the heels of my apologetic SMS to her.

MARY

That afternoon, after dropping Natasha back at the bus, we set off again with the dogs as usual. These walks are quite demanding. Not only are the pups growing fast, they are forever diving into the bush after the other dogs. At one point Mary squirmed into a thicket from which she refused to come out. She can be very single- (bloody!) minded. After calling her and tugging at the lead to no avail, I gave the lead a great heave. She heaved in return; I lost my balance and tumbled into a rocky, prickly and decidedly uncomfortable bush.

This is not an adventure that I recount with any pride. I felt silly, sore and more than a little irritated, especially as I was stuck and Jones was scolding me for my failings (mainly out of anxiety, she said afterwards). With difficulty I managed to extricate myself. A cut finger is fortunately the only evidence of the mishap.

That evening I got a call from a PT gentleman in Lisbon who spoke good English and, for once, knew what he was talking about. (I had been phoning Sapo daily in the [vain] hope of discovering when my internet connection might be restored.) He suspected, the gent informed me, that the problem lay either near the house or at the socket; he was sure a technician could fix it the following day. It was music to my ears. I opted for the morning session between 9 and one.

Thursday: 13.00 No sign of that technician. Jones asked whether his absence meant that he wasn’t coming. I had no idea. After lunch I phoned PT in my best Portuguese to inquire. A brusque woman, if I understood her correctly, said the technician was due between 9 and 3 the next day (in a tone that implied that I should be grateful).

LURID JONES SKY

As you may be aware I have more than my share of lurid dreams. A friend of mine expressed the view that dreams were meaningful and could be analysed by someone with the relevant expertise. I confess that, while some dream themes are evident, I remain somewhat skeptical. Any analyst confronted with my dreams would be driven to see a psychiatrist. Take three of this week’s nocturnal episodes, for example – if you have the patience. As you will see, not even the most imaginative writer could possibly make these up:

LAST SKY

A friend and I were doing something with computers. I was admiring his expertise when I noticed a bird on the lawn outside the window. On looking again, I realized that the creature could not be a bird because it was wearing a pink top and skirt as well as high heels. It must be a woman disguised as a bird. Clearly she intended us ill. I warned my friend and we dived behind a bed as she hurled a dart through the window at us. It missed. I concealed myself between two mattresses as she threw a second dart. That missed too. Then I leapt upon her, grabbed her with my teeth and bit as hard as I could.

Jones and I had stopped at a hotel for a meal. We looked around. The hotel had both an ordinary dining room and an exclusive one, where some people were seated. The hotelier said he could fit us into it. I became aware that the hotel was used as a base for a financial TV program that was going on air. The hotelier thought I looked familiar and wondered whether he had seen me on TV. Although I confessed to working in television, I modestly doubted the likelihood (since I knew even in my dream that I wasn’t exactly famous). Jones and I sat down in the foyer. She noticed that meals were expensive, priced at £40 per person. I was about to suggest that we leave on some pretext when trays arrived with food. The spread was less than impressive for £40 and I wondered whether there was more to come.

Last night I dreamed that while I nodded off someone stole my bag and mobile phone. I discovered this theft while I was on a bus. I was trying to point out Espargal to other passengers. I got off the bus too early and found myself walking with a large dog (that belonged to someone else) on a lead. This dog leapt on to a table where a Pekinese was sitting and wanted to be friends with the Pekinese, whose owner objected. I went back to the road where another bus driver, with the consent of the inspector, who was looking on, allowed me to board his bus on the strength of the ticket stub from the first bus. At this point I found that I was shirtless as well as bagless and phoneless. I left the bus and started down a long cliff path. Home seemed very far away. I thought that I should call Jones to ask one of the neighbours to come to fetch me.

Jones, who used to say she never dreamed, last night dreamed that she was on some large, rather shabby cruise ship, and couldn’t find the cabin. That’s not a bad dream, although it hardly compares with my own. Or maybe that’s just the bare bones of it.

With the tractor I took around several large water containers to the “water hole” on the far side of the hill where the dogs pause to drink. The track was really rough, studded with huge rocks and, as I confided to Jones, not for sissies. But the dogs will be well pleased with my efforts for the water dries up rapidly in sunny weather when they need it most.

We have found the first ticks of the season, attached to Raymond. Regrettably, because they cost over 20 euros each, we have bought half a dozen tick collars for the dogs. These are meant to last for six months although they seldom do, if only because the dogs rip them off while scrambling through the undergrowth after rabbits. I wish there were tick collars for humans as well. We inevitably get bitten half a dozen times each season.

AFTERNOON TEA ARRIVES

A husband and wife kitchen-enterprise, who have served us well in the past, called to see what they could do in the Bijou Ensuite. We were concerned, I emphasized, not with style or colour but merely with price and utility. Happily, they had a display unit that they were about to scrap and will suit us extremely well. We’ve made little progress with the rest of the project this week, other than revarnishing the floor, as we’re still waiting for the electrician to finish up.

The dearth of pictures is due to the difficulty of photographing non-arriving technicians or supplying dream images.

P.S. Midday Friday: A PT technician has come and gone (back to Benafim where he found and fixed the problem) and come again. Praise be! I'm connected again (but at a miserable speed and with a cheap and nasty router). There's more work ahead.