Good Friday morning: It's a most beautiful one, with the white houses of Benafim on the far side of the valley almost clear enough to touch. We are back from our walk. The dogs are still catching their breath. The Portuguese Met Office has just sent me an email warning that today and tomorrow are going to be scorchers. We are grateful for the brisk breeze.
Thursday afternoon brought a new fire in the hills to the east of us. Three helicopters were buzzing around, water-bombing it. It was much bigger than the picture (taken from our patio) indicates, but tiny compared to the devastating blazes that destroyed thousands of hectares last month. I had an email from a British fund-raiser, attaching a letter from grateful fire-fighters for the large donation that he had made to them.
Most of the pictures that follow are from the Sao Bras fair - of which more later. First, a little tale!
SUPPER SCENE
Our car came with an alarm system, albeit a very basic system that I never paid the least attention to. And, as it happens, a few weeks ago I removed the small toolkit that I used to carry in the boot – on the grounds that there was no point in carrying tools for an engine I didn’t begin to fathom.
Last Monday I was snoozing in the car under the trees beside a busy road in Loule while Jones and May enjoyed a leisurely lunch nearby. I locked the doors, partially opened the windows for fresh air, ensured that the dogs were snug in the back seat and dozed off.
Some time later, I was woken by the ting of an SMS from Jones to say they’d finished lunch. So I sat up and tried to start the engine. At that point the car decided that it was being stolen and the alarm began to wail.
The noise was shattering and I had not the faintest idea how to stop it. There was nothing helpful in the bulky instruction book. Nor did I have a shifting spanner with which to disconnect the battery. So there I stood, like an idiot, scratching my head. Fortunately, the public ignored me and the racket. For all they cared, I could have stolen every car in the street.
Along came Jones and May, who decided there was nothing they could do to help – and took themselves shopping.
A phone call to Honda’s emergency line went through to a woman who said she would send a pick-up truck to rescue me. No! she didn’t know how to turn the alarm off.
Nor did the receptionist at Honda in Faro; sorry, her technical colleague was out of the office. Please call back later!
I was saved by a passing technician, a man who had installed our solar-water heaters, who recognised me and saw my predicament. Remarking that he had several times encountered a similar problem, he disconnected the battery. This at least restored peace to the area. Another phone call to Honda brought the assurance that the pick-up truck was on its way. There was nothing to do but wait.
Having availed ourselves of a hedge for relief – that’s Ono, Prickles and I - we settled down to make the best of it. It seemed like a long wait. Eventually, the pick-up truck driver arrived.
I explained the problem, one that was evidently familiar to the driver. He reconnected the battery (which set the alarm off again), closed the car’s doors and asked me for the remote. Click-click! and the alarm fell silent.
As he then explained. All you have to do is close all the doors and press “lock” “unlock” a couple of times. The man was happy to accept the grateful tenner that I pressed into his hand and went on his way, wishing no doubt that he could resolve all such problems as easily and profitably. So did I!
DAVID & BARBARA - SAO BRAS FAIR
Our former neighbour, David Davies, had meanwhile arrived (in response to our SOS) to retrieve May, who’d finished shopping. And so it ended. Well, it nearly ended; because disconnecting the battery meant that the radio/GPS electronics wouldn’t work until a security code was re-entered. Honda said the code should have been on the door frame. It wasn't.
DAGMAR AT SAO BRAS
That meant dropping by the Honda workshop in Faro the next day. The card with the security code wasn’t in the bulky log-book where it should have been. And it wasn’t in the glove box; But a Honda salesman found it in a mini-receptacle where Jones stores her make-up. He put the card in the log-book and stuck the peel-off copy on to the door frame. So now everything works again.
I won’t bother with the moral of the story. Yes, I’ve put the tool box back in the car.
JONES BROMELIAD
Talking of tools: it is with some pride that I can report the successful installation of a new lock on the front door. A key had broken off in the old lock, and since the lock was riveted to the metal door, I couldn’t remove the barrel without ripping off the lock. The helpful man in the lock shop said the model was out of production. Fortunately, he stocked a similar one.
This had to be squeezed into position and then riveted into place - which was managed successfully.....well, sort of successfully! (Yes I know it's not level!) The door closes and it locks. Normally, I wouldn’t report in such detail on minor repairs but in view of my brother in law’s extensive (and expert) handiwork around his house, I feel obliged to fly the Valapena flag in moral self-defence, if only to make a point with his sister.
Jones and I took ourselves last Sunday to the Sao Bras fair, for supper with friends and then a wander around the show. You have no idea how good fresh ham and cheese sandwiches taste when complemented with a glass of cold red wine on a warm night. I took mine standing as my back has been a bit out of sorts this week.
And, once again, I snapped away at passers-by with the camera, a most entertaining diversion. One has the immediate satisfaction of either admiring one’s handiwork or deleting it. Either Joe and Joana Blogs have no idea of how weird they look or they don’t care. And yes, I’m aware that I’m not Mr High Fashion myself.
We have had the pleasure of entertaining Sarah and her guests and leading them along the stony 45-minute pole path to point out the views and extol the virtues of living among these hills. There's no better way to conclude such an outing than with supper under the stars at the Hamburgo in Benafim - especially as Manuel has
recently got in a fine selection of wines.
Prickles and Ono were pleased to join us as ever, and Prickles got to lie back and get his tummy tickled by all and sundry, which he loves, as well being able to display the member for which he is celebrated far and wide.
THE MOON AT NIGHT IS BIG AND BRIGHT
Have you noticed that your spam emails arrive these days with a top line reading:
Please click “Not Spam” above if delivered to spam folder. You can’t accuse spammers of lacking a sense of humour!
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