Letter from Espargal: 17 of 2011

While most of our weeks are sociable, this one has been more sociable than usual. In fact, it's a blur of sociability that's proving quite difficult to get into focus. One of the spurs for this outburst of social interaction was the arrival last Sunday of Llewellyn and Lucia. He's a dab hand with a camera and I'm pleased to be able to promote his work. Here we are at the Coral.

The big event of the week, apart from that wedding, was the inauguration of the Bijou Ensuite. Friends and neighbours were invited around for snacks, conversation and, of course, to admire our achievements. For the occasion my tractor was turfed unceremoniously out into the cold and its residence turned into an informal parlour.

An upturned section of roofing panel made for a useful table top. Jones had planned to set up things outside but threatening weather scuppered the plans. The weather hasn't just threatened, mind you.

Ferocious thunder storms have rocked the valleys. A downpour towards the end of the week flooded roads and dumped over an inch of rain on us within an hour. The car was throwing up twin wakes on our return from Benafim.

On several occasions my wife joined the two Ls on an outing, trusting me to run the ship in her absence.

One of these was the first leg of the "Sovereign Mother" festival, a colourful parade during which the statue of the Virgin is carried down the hill to Loule from an historic church on the outskirts of the town.

This event is taken equally seriously by both the faithful and the faithless, to say nothing of the bearers, who train hard for the task, which requires both fitness and stamina.

They move almost at a jog with a strange side-to-side bob. To be appointed a bearer is considered a great honour.

Crowds line the streets and follow the procession up to a church on the square.

Here the Virgin presides until it's time for her to be marched back up the hill again.


Our visitors, unlike ourselves are beach people. Few days out do not take in one of the many beaches along the southern and western coasts.

One afternoon, however, they decided to try the local river, 2 kms away.

They report that they were initially dissuaded by the sight of two snakes swimming through the water.

However they waded upstream until they found the pool at the foot of the weir, where they plunged in.

There, fortunately, they encountered no more snakes. Instead they found themselves the centre of attention of a shoal of small fish that nibbled the dry skin from the swimmers' flesh, a goose-pimply experience. We are given to understand that such skin nibbling is available from select beauty parlours at considerable cost.

While the others were having fun, I was hard at work back at base, caring for the animals, weeding the garden and cleaning the house. Note Raymond filching biscuits from my pockets as I labour away.

On the subject of biscuits, let me mention that while most of the dogs are gobblers, Ono is a cautious eater and Pricks likes to guard his biscuits for a suitable moment. The pups, on the other hand, swallow theirs with a single crunch and then look around for any crumbs. Here they may be seen talibanning in on little Pricks, who is emitting warning growls as he guards his interests between his front paws.

Also hard at work, between rain storms, have been our two fencers, Steve and Luis, under the eagle eye of old Zeferino. The sections of fence encorporating the new property have proved particularly challenging. These have had to leap over boulders and stride across dongas, leading to multiple hops, skips and jumps.

The perimeter fence is virtually complete. Already we are able to take the dogs out for a 20 minute stroll around the property, leaving the pups to rush and tumble about in their endless jousts. The only drawback is that the combination of wet weather and my temporary inability to use the strimmer has left the flowers and weeds in charge of the property.

We are forever having to de-bur the pups, whose long fur proves an ideal home for the wretched seeds.

Before I sign off, let me salute the fine dinner to which our guests entertained us to mark Lucia's approaching half century. Although we dine out a great deal, it's seldom over linen-clad tables in smart restaurants.

This was the exception, a night on which I unhesitatingly sacrificed my diet and non-alcoholic resolutions. It was not the only night on which I have had to make such sacrifices but that's another story.