Letter from Espargal: 14 of 2013

More things have happened this week than will easily fit into one letter - and most of them have been bad news. A good starting point would be Sunday afternoon when a neighbour phoned.

FLOWERS IN THE PARK - MORE TO COME
Maybe I should explain first that the strangest couple in the village, old Chico and mute Dina (who makes a lot of noise but can't speak) have a little dog called Nuno. It is always hanging around in the road outside their cottage. It sometimes goes for a walk in the mornings with Marie and Olly and their dog, Poppy and it is learning to take a biscuit from us. Nuno is a harmless little beast that gets on with the other free-ranging dogs in the village. One day there was no sign of her.


Well, the neighbour phoned to let me know that he'd come across Nuno's body in the fields and buried the dog. Chico, who has a nasty streak with animals, had killed the dog, apparently for nipping another villager.

So, sadly I passed the news on to the expat community in the village, including our Irish neighbours, Fintan and Pauline.

On Monday we heard of the death in Dublin of Pauline’s brother, who had been ailing with cancer.

On Tuesday, while taking coffee at the Hamburgo, we learned of the sudden death of Celso’s father. Celso, you may recall, is the man who ran our favourite snack-bar in Benafim until recently when the financial squeeze forced him to shut the doors – and drove his French wife to seek interim work in France.

It would seem that, while eating, his father had sneezed and then choked. Although he was rushed to hospital, he failed to recover. A notice on the restaurant door said the funeral would be held the following morning.

WALKING TO THE CEMETERY
That proved awkward as I had a medical appointment (that I was unable to change) on the Wednesday morning. In the event, I dropped Barbara in Benafim to attend the funeral and continued on to the appointment. This was with a dermatologist whom I hadn’t seen before, a man who had been recommended by our GP. I wanted him to examine a new keratosis that I didn't like.


Let me interrupt myself to say that we have both been visiting a Faro dermatologist for years but she is semi-retired and very busy – and couldn’t fit me in prior to our holiday next month.

The doctor wasn’t too fussed about the keratosis but he thought that a nodule below my throat needed prompt attention and that at the same time he might remove a cyst from my back – something I have long intended.

So, on Thursday, having run May’s nephew, Ken, out to the airport, I found myself at the nearby hospital in Gambelas, lying naked from the waist up on an operating table, talking to a young nurse and listening to some horrible pop music from the radio in the corner.


The doctor arrived a bit late – his previous patient had taken longer than he anticipated – and proceeded to chop a cubic centimetre out of my chest and (turn over please) a cubic inch out of my back before patching me up.

BARRI - LISTENING TO BEETHOVEN
On the way home, we listened to Beethoven’s 7th symphony, which I found a vast improvement. The dogs complained loudly at our late return, saying they had more or less given us up. Even so, they had to wait for their dinner while we poured ourselves generous baggies.

Barbara’s wounds continue to heal slowly. She had the bandages changed again this week, hoping that she might soon be able to do without them. But it’s going to be a while yet. I’ve booked her in to see Dr Pedro as well when I go to have the stitches out at the end of the month.


One afternoon, commuting Irish neighbours, Tony and Annette came around for afternoon cool-drinks. We were expecting their son, Neil, as well but he had put his back out while turning around in the car and was in distress at home. I contributed something of my extensive range of back medication.

Annette told us that Neil had been scammed by his car rental company (Gold Car – don’t touch them) who now whack nearly €100 on to the bill as a fuel charge, regardless of how much the driver has used.

I promptly phoned Zitauto, the rental company that I’ve been using for years, to ensure that they haven’t adopted the same practice. They haven’t – but they warned me that it’s now quite common. Visitors to Spain and Portugal take note.

We got scammed by Hertz in the Azores – for a tiny scuff (on a much scuffed car) for which they held us responsible. Needless to say, I’ll walk before using Hertz again.

No blog is complete without a mention of the weather. Summer has arrived, pretty much overnight. The park is awash with a rainbow of wild flowers. Temperatures have soared by 10*. We now suffer mid-teens by night and bask in the upper 20s by day. Evenings are the best time of day, out at the table on the cobble patio.

MARIE, OLLY & POPPY
I’ve been strimming madly and Jones has been ripping out weeds from the garden. We’re trying to get the place presentable before the arrival of the Ferretts in just two weeks.