JONES FLOWER PICTURE - MORE TO FOLLOW
This week has revolved around Olive’s memorial and her four children, who arrived down from the UK severally to try to sort their inheritance out. So please understand if this is more of a diary than a blog. Olive’s son, Gerry, as reported, was the first to get here - by car last Thursday.
OLIVE
On Friday evening we drove to Faro to meet her daughters, Anne and Margaret, who had travelled down by train and coach. (Anne doesn’t fly.) Their dashes between stations across Paris, Madrid and Seville, were carefully planned and, to their delight, everything worked out. They’d loved the exotic European trains; they even had their own shower. We took the girls home, fetched Gerry and went to supper at a snack-bar nearby.
Saturday morning I joined the three of them to run through the items that I thought needed their consideration. There was lots to think about. That evening, as Jones and I were preparing to go to supper, we got a call from Gerry. He was stranded with a misfiring car half-way to Faro airport to fetch his brother, Gordon.
After arranging with Jones to feed the animals and catch a lift with neighbours to the restaurant, I went to rescue Gerry from the roadside and thence to the airport to fetch Gordon. The question was what to do about Gerry's car. Gerry thought it might be able to limp back home - and it did, which was a relief, albeit a temporary one.
Sunday was the Olive memorial gathering, which had taken a fair bit of planning and lots of communication with Jackie Neville, an Anglican priest, and the family. The day was picture perfect. Fifteen to 20 people came along. We gathered on the patio where Jackie led the proceedings.
After a brief bible reading, Anne tried to recite a poem in Olive’s memory but, in the emotion of the moment, had to hand it to Gerry to continue. I said a few words, Jones played her recording of “God bless thee and keep thee” and then we all set about the snacks and drinks. We thought it went well - our final salute to an old friend.
Monday morning early Gerry, assisted by another friend, took his car into the local dealers for attention. Sorry, they told him, they were booked up for the next three days. So he drove back to the house; the car was performing better, he said and he would chance the return journey.
Mid-morning I fetched the four of them for a session with the lawyer. She explained in detail the complex procedure that was involved in the inheritance, starting with probate from the English courts and various documents to validate it. In the meanwhile she collected and copied the passports, birth certificates and driving licences that I’d warned them to bring along.
As it happens, bureaucracy was the subject of my English lesson that afternoon. A German entrepreneur here in the Algarve is leading a campaign to reduce it. We can but wish him well. I’m not optimistic. The Portuguese know no other way of life and can’t imagine one.
Because I’m going to miss several lessons in the spring, I’ve doubled up on lessons this month, stretching them from one hour to two – with a break midway for coffee across the road.
Tuesday morning we repaired to a fancy new hotel on the outskirts of Quinta do Lago, an “exclusive” resort on the coast. The hotel, the Conrad, was the venue of a tax seminar that I attended while Jones looked around. We’ve seen a few smart hotels our time but nothing posher than the Conrad. Guards at the gate directed us down the long drive and into the underground car park.
While I went to hear how much tax we faced this year, Jones took the two dogs on the briefest of walks. As she was returning them to the car, she was approached by a guard who said he’d been alerted to dogs in the area. Dog poo is clearly unthinkable at the Conrad. Let me add that the guard was perfectly pleasant, confessing that he himself kept chinchillas - as I gleaned from Jones when I emerged at lunchtime.
We dropped by Olive’s house to leave the post-box key with the family and collect the plates and glasses that Jones had taken along on Sunday. The two girls were very pleased with themselves for having worked out a useful access code.
Wednesday I walked the dogs alone while Jones prepared for her mid-morning flight to London. She planned to renew her passport at the same day service that’s now available in the UK, as well as catching up with friends and attending an exhibition or two.
In the afternoon I collected Anne and Margaret from the house and took them into Faro coach station to begin their long road and rail haul back to the UK. Along with their brothers, they’d had a relentless four days sorting out Olive’s belongings and affairs and looked forward to unwinding on the trains.
After supper, I sat down in a chair in the lounge with a glass of wine to watch the news. Some time later I woke up from a deep slumber, knowing neither where I was nor the time of day. Magically, the glass of wine was still clutched in my hand.
Ono and I slept well that night, he on Jones’s side of the bed and I on my own. I warned the cats not to expect their usual 05.00 biscuit handout.
Thursday morning I took Raymond to the vet. Ono, Pricks and Russ came along for the ride.
For a couple of weeks, Raymond has been chewing at the base of his tail, site of certain anal glands and a common source of irritation to dogs. Dermatitis, which started to appear there, gradually spread in spite of our efforts to contain it. As Raymond is big, doesn’t trust vets and doesn’t like being meddled with, we thought it best to tranquilise him first. A course of anti-biotics and a spray should cure the problem.
I gather from Jonesy that she has her new passport and can now relax for the rest of her visit. She is due back Sunday afternoon.
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