My attention this week has been focussed mainly on the adjacent field, where our solar voltaic array is due to be installed. The first reason for that is that after digging the foundations with his JCB last weekend, Mario had to shift an almond tree whose shadow would otherwise have fallen on the panels. This move I blessed most reluctantly and only on Mario’s assurance that with generous irrigation the tree might well survive. 
While I removed the main branches with a chainsaw, he dug a generous hole to take it. Then, having wrapped the tree in a sack to protect its bark, he lifted it from the ground and carried it across to the waiting hole. Finally, he packed the soil in around the roots once again. Since then each day I have watered the tree generously from a barrel attached to the tractor box.
I am hopeful of a successful transplant, especially as the one small branch remaining continues to wave its green leaves in the air. At heart I guess that I’m a tree hugger. At least, I believe that two trees should be planted for each one cut down. Several of the trees that we put into the garden some years ago are now soaring happily over our heads, bringing us both shade and fruit. On Tuesday Horacio the builder returned with Pedro to measure up the foundations for the solar unit base and to lay a concrete floor. It was very hot.
When I asked Pedro after lunch as a matter of politeness whether there was anything he needed, he replied that a small beer would be most acceptable. I understood exactly how he felt. Trying to survive the Algarve summer without beer is like trying to climb a rope with one hand. For the sake of sociability, I thought it best to have a can myself. 
I had another on the seafront at Alvor after we had been to visit Marie in hospital, where she was recuperating from a hip replacement operation. It was the first time we’ve explored the area and a very attractive resort it is – not that we usually go near the Algarve resorts in summer. 
As it happens, the hottest day of the week was Sunday, when the funeral of Manuel’s father took place. Manuel and his wife Graça run the only serious restaurant in Benafim, a business that he took over from his father some years ago. In spite of the searing heat, hundreds of people turned out to follow the hearse a kilometre from the church to the cemetery, ourselves included. The old man, who’d been ailing for some time, would have been proud to witness his send off. 
Afterwards, we collapsed at a table outside the nearest bar and took refuge in a couple of reviving beers. At least Fintan and I did. Jones found relief in an icy baggy; Pauline confines herself to soft drinks. I hope that there’s beer in heaven; it would come as a terrible disappointment to find that paradise was dry. (I note that the Pope, currently on a visit to Madrid, is offering pilgrims a plenary indulgence; if it came with a beer guarantee, I might be tempted.) 
On Thursday Horacio returned with Carlos to tie the reinforcing rods for the concrete base. Each rod was measured to fit within a couple of millimetres of its assigned place. That was important, Horacio insisted, if the structure was to be uniformly strong. He had seen concrete split down one side where the reinforcing rods were too far apart. I didn’t doubt it. Horacio, happily, is an excellent builder and I’m grateful to have him doing the job – all the more so after hearing the builder horror stories of a friend who is constructing a house not far away. 
Friday the solar man returned with the centre post, which has to be cemented into the block and to remain there for a week or so while the concrete sets. The post weighed a ton. The builders struggled to get it off the van and they struggled even more to get it into position. It was one of those jobs that called for both brain and brawn. 
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