Letter from Espargal: 18 of 2012

SUNSET OVER ESPARGAL: Llewellyn

Hello from a sunny, breezy Espargal. Mid-morning: we are back from the vet, where we took young Barri to be spayed. I wish there were a way to explain to one’s pets why such visits and procedures are necessary. All we can do is to lavish attention and affection on her when we fetch her again this afternoon.

Also with us, to get their annual jabs, were the big fellows, Raymond and Bobby, neither of whom can see the point of the exercise. Both were deeply distrustful of the young vet who had to administer the twin injections and growled their displeasure as he approached, syringe in hand. I tried to reassure them as I grasped them tightly, just in case. Apart from expressing their feelings, however, they were well behaved and the visit took place without undue upset.

The same was true earlier in the week when it was the turn of the other four dogs. Next year we’ll ask the vet to come to the house instead – somewhat more expensive but so much simpler!

ABIDING MEMORY OF PICO MOUNTAIN

We’ve been back from holiday a week. As usual, our house-sitters, Terry and Margaret, did a brilliant job of looking after the zoo. After seeing them off at the airport, we plunged into the jungle of catch-up tasks that inevitably await us – washing, correspondence, banking, bills, lessons and like. In spite of our best efforts, it takes a couple of days to sort ourselves out, unpack and heave the suitcases back up into the cupboards.

Since then Jones has been spending most of her time getting her garden into its summer trim. She has barely come inside the house. Her barrow creaks under an enormous load of weeds that awaits dumping on to the compost mountain outside the gates. She has been carrying armfuls of the same across there.

One evening, she couldn’t find her mobile phone; I rang it and we followed its “buzzing” to the compost, where she discovered it under a heap of weeds – none the worse for wear, fortunately.

For my part I’ve been ploughing, strimming and spraying to get the fields – mine and a neighbour’s - back under control.

We returned to find the terrain a metre deep in spring growth, a veritable palette of flowers, weeds, prickles and burs. The burs are the worst. They attach themselves gleefully to the long-haired dogs, in spite of grooming I’ve inflicted on the animals, and are the very devil to remove. So are the harpoon-shaped grass-seeds. Nature doesn’t miss a trick.

I take an extended siesta after lunch before returning to the fray in the late afternoon. We generally work until nine before coming inside to enjoy one of Jones’s mega-salads for supper.

THE GOOD LIFE: Llewellyn

Speaking of which – for the umpteenth time in my life I have decided to try to do something about my profile, which has been imperceptibly rounding out for some time. The trigger was a comment from one of my pupils, who had been absent from class for a while and who noted my more portly appearance. But his observation merely underlined a growing unease that I’ve been feeling myself, aggravated by occasional unexpected (uncomplimentary) glances in the mirror.

I'M NOT MENDING IT AGAIN

My wife is deeply sceptical about the likely outcome, pointing out that my age, my genes and my record are all against me. It’s not that my record is hopeless. I have scored one or two notable successes. The problem has always been maintaining the good work. It’s so easy to slide back into one’s old habits. Stay tuned, as they say!

AZORES WAVE

I was pleased to note this morning that the local press had published my letter (“It Hurts!”) about our hire-car experience in the Azores. I’ve taken every opportunity and avenue, with due discretion, to spread the bad news, and I shall continue doing so. I’m still sore. Being ripped off leaves a bruise that takes a long time to heal.

Beware the latest email scam – emails from people pretending to be Fedex and other courier firms, with a nasty trojan in the accompanying attachment. I’ve had a couple already. There are woeful websites with the experience of unfortunate recipients who’ve opened them, generally because they were expecting a parcel.

Mid-week we took the car in to Honda for its annual service – well deserved. Our odyssey through Spain and Portugal added nearly 3,000kms to the clock, with never a missed stroke or a murmur – except on my part when we lost ourselves in convoluted city centres. Still, we both enjoyed the touring and Jones has suggested an area of northern Portugal for our next venture – hopefully with updated GPS disks.

FARMER WITH AZOREAN CATTLE DOG

What I liked as much as anything about the Portuguese destinations was our ability to converse with people. We (mainly me) chatted to barmen, restaurateurs, passers-by, waiters, receptionists, sales-ladies, whale-spotters and you name it. It makes life so much easier and more pleasant. I really missed the ability to do the same in Spain.

PYRAMID ORCHID - Terry Ferrett

Spain, both its empty exchequer and its bankrupt banks, has been much in the news – not that you would need telling. Madrid’s denials that the banks will need a bailout are received with growing scepticism and falling ratings. I confess that I await with some nervousness the outcome of the Greek elections due on June 17. For if Greece leads a Mediterranean exit from the euro, life could get quite exciting. I would not look forward to the reinstatement of the old Portuguese currency. Whatever its problems, the euro has been a boon for us.