Sunday: The week began inauspiciously. My back, which had been well-behaved for months, suddenly threw a wobbly. I have no idea why. So I strapped it up and started taking the usual pills. When out of sorts, my back tends to cause my wife as much anxiety as it causes me discomfort, while she contemplates afresh the prospect of life with an invalid. Happily, the episode has not been a severe one and I am ending the week in a better state than I began it.
PERIWINKLE ON THE VERGE
Monday was as Mondays are. We fetch May for lunch, I retire early for a snooze in the car before returning to the restaurant for coffee and a custard tart. Then Jones takes May shopping while I try to make myself heard in my English class.
We talked about the horrendous nightclub fire in the Brazilian city of Santa Maria. Here in Portugal, at much the same time, 11 people died when a coach, heading for another Santa Maria, tumbled into a ravine. Altogether a bad week for Santa Marias. It occurs to me that half the cities in South America are named after heavenly figures who have done very little from their celestial perches to improve the lives of the earthly inhabitants.
MY BEAN PLANTS
At 23.00 I got a message from Natasha asking if she could work the following day instead of the Wednesday. Why so late, I asked. Because she’d just had the following day’s work cancelled, she replied. So we agreed that she could come a day early. Since Olive’s death, Natasha has lost a substantial part of her former income and we’ve been happy to fit her in around any occasional jobs that she can find. There’s not much demand for maids’ services right now.
Tuesday: Jones was due at the dentist at 15.00 for a session which the dentist wanted before she leaves for London on Wednesday. There was no sign of her at 16.00 when I went back to the surgery to look for her, nor at 17.00. And it was a wan, unsteady figure that finally emerged 15 minutes later. It’s not often that I have to escort Jones back to the car by the arm but this was one. The dental work is on capped front teeth that date back to the 70s.
The drizzle and mist of last week have given way to a welcome series of sunny days, warm enough for sunbathing and cool nights, just cool enough to warrant a fire. The air conditioning in the car is already clicking into life during afternoon outings. I watched one morning as smoke from a fire in the valley rose just a few metres before hitting an inversion and then spreading out as though against a glass ceiling.
Wednesday: We met Natasha at Olive’s house late morning. Jones set to work on an elaborate exterior plant arrangement in an effort to make the place feel a little more welcoming, and then placed a number of flower pots around the front door.
I settled myself beside ONO on a blanket under a pine tree, feeling uninspired. Jonesy said she was doing it for Olive’s sake and, as much as I admire her idealism, I don’t share it. I don’t think there’s anything more that we can do for Olive.
Natasha busied herself inside making beds for Olive’s four offspring, who are due down separately over the next three days. There’s to be a gathering of friends on Sunday in Olive’s memory, followed by a family session with lawyers the following day at which I will join them.
The family is currently going through the complexities of obtaining probate in the UK. Olive’s departure for the next world took everybody by surprise – a valuable lesson on the wisdom of being prepared.
I continued my earlier efforts to transfer to disk a hymn that Barbara particularly wants to play at the Sunday gathering. Here’s a story to be told. Some weeks ago Jones heard a Portuguese choir singing “The Lord bless thee and keep thee” and fell in love with the recording. I was able to access the podcast and listen to the recording but neither of us could make out the name of the choir. And the producers failed to respond to my inquiries.
MOBILE CLINIC VISITS
So we turned to Amazon to acquire a CD with a similar rendition. The hymn in question is the 16th and final item on the CD – not something that I could select on our portable CD player. So I ripped the music off the disk but utterly failed to burn the single item back on to a fresh CD, in spite of trying different disks, different software and different burn speeds. Very frustrating! For some unknown reason, I was successful when I tried with my newer laptop computer. Maybe it's time to update my desktop.
Thursday: After our usual coffee and cake stop, we went across to Olive’s house once again, this time to meet her son, Gerry, and to hand over the keys. He had just arrived down here by car from the UK, a trip that took three days. His two sisters are due to arrive by coach in Faro on Friday evening and his brother by plane on Saturday.
Beside the car in Olive’s grounds I found a small hedgehog that was lucky not to have been run over. Gerry picked it up and took it to a safer spot. He was well acquainted with hedgehogs, confiding that his son runs an informal hedgehog sanctuary.
Jones busied herself once again with flower arrangements while Gerry and I looked around the place. There's masses of stuff that he and his siblings will have to get rid of before the house is sold. We took him to lunch at a restaurant just up the road before leaving him to get on with it. He has a busy weekend ahead. So have we all.
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