Friday afternoon: The sun is squinting through the clouds at Benafim across the valley, which is a nice change from the 30mms of rain that drenched Espargal overnight and doused us out on the hillside this morning – welcome and timely though it was. As I sit down at my desk now, newly arisen from a delightful fire-side siesta, the dogs are nudging me for their afternoon outing. OK, first things first.
ONE HOUR LATER:
We have dried off the dogs and changed out of our sodden clothes. That’s to say, I have changed. Jones has gone off, still dripping, to feed her waifs and strays. Pity that our exit coincided with the arrival of large black cloud.
Life at the moment seems to revolve largely around dogs and widows. Both prompted us to visit Portugal Telecom this morning. The first aim was to replace the TV zapper that Barri had discovered and remodeled.
I was really mad when we came across the remains, remonstrating angrily with her and waving the useless device in her face as she cowered in her basket. That won’t stop her from chewing up the next one she finds. It’s just not possible to put everything chewable in the house beyond her reach. And she’s pissing on the patio again, unwilling to go out in the rain.
We also wanted to resolve a problem that Olive is having – continuing to receive bills from PT in spite of having transferred her account elsewhere. Thursday we fetched May from Loule and Olive from Almancil and took them both shopping at Apolonia. (The dogs had to squeeze up a bit but didn’t seem to mind.) Apolonia is a supermarket in a class of its own, much patronised by the expat community.
No more British TV?
I bought a local English paper with a headline story about the (possible) loss in the new year of Iberian access to British satellite TV channels. That would really be a blow. One of the ironies of life is that we get for free the BBC and commercial channels for which UK residents have to pay an annual licence fee. I’d be happy to pay as well if necessary. But I’d hate to lose the signal.
CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF
Wednesday Natasha came to clean. It wasn’t easy in the drizzle. She was happy to relieve us of some footwear and an airline bag that we no longer use. One of these days we are going to have to do some serious down-sizing. It’s hard to know where we’ll start.
RUTH'S ROSE
Barbara joined me mid-morning to sow fava beans in our newly-ploughed furrows, along with generous scatterings of blue fertilizer pellets. We completed the task just in time for the drizzle that drifted in after lunch.
Also drifting in came two elegant egrets, keen to seek juicy worms in the rich turf. Barri joyfully chased them away, ignoring my angry yells. When I wag my finger in her face, she adopts a pose of such remorse and repentance as would touch the heart of a loan-shark. But it doesn’t last.
Yet another drifter is the fellow who powers his way across the valley on windless evenings in a motorised wing. It sounds like a small lawn mower. How the pilot gets off the ground and how he lands I've no idea. But he obviously manages both without too much trouble as we see him often enough.
Also on Tuesday, we went to fetch Ermie from the house of our Dutch neighbours, Nicoline and Anneke, who have gone to Thailand to attend Nicoline’s son’s wedding. Ermie will be our guest for the next fortnight or so. The pack has met her often enough before and accepted her return with just a few personal sniffs. Our dogs also love her cushioned cane basket, which is not good news; they’ve long since demolished their own.
This year Loule moved its Christmas fair from an exhibition hall in the industrial zone to the heart of the town. Vendors were lucky with the weather, catching a rare few hours of sunshine. We were happy to wander up the Avenida, supporting the cake sellers and an animal charity.
There was little demand for traditional crafts. Basket weavers stood idle behind their wares.
Jones calls me to supper, a large bowl of salads and veges. It’s what we have most nights and it’s fine by me. We'll watch a new BBC series on “behind the scenes” at Westminster Abbey.
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