On Tuesday and Friday evenings, before I check the Euromillions results, I sometimes imagine what we might do if we won the big prize - say €20 million or thereabouts. (We've already won the €20; it's the million that's proving problematic.)
These are idle reflections rather than any lust after money. I don't know that we'd be any happier to become multi-millionaires. What we might be, and this is the point, is relatively cool in summer.
The awkward implications, like caring for our hot house and garden in Portugal in the meanwhile, I'll worry about in due course. The great thing about fantasies is that you don't have to concern yourself with the awkward bits. You can lose yourself in the dream, at least until the inflamed heat bumps around your midriff bring you back to earth.
As you see, I'm sneaking these reflections in between the pictures. They're mainly pictures of us working because working's what we've mainly been doing, with the assistance of Natasha and Slavic. It's an accident of fate that we have Slavic. He has recently had his official hours severely reduced and is only too pleased to have the work.
I ran my cement mixer and half a dozen planks down to the house of the Dutch ladies, where Slavic spent a day laying two slabs. He returned to us for the rest of the week to allow the concrete slabs to harden before he has to drill into them.
From the Dutch ladies' house at the bottom of the village, you get a good view of Espargal hill and, if you look carefully, of Casa Valapena (brown walls) towards the top of the hill.
On the home front we continue with all kinds of minor improvements - really just tidying up the garden, paths and walls. This exercise is both timely in view of the arrival of family in September and, I think, to our long-term benefit, for the effort really shows.
JONES ON THE NEW CURVACIOUS PATH
I had a note from one of our old mates the other day in response to recent blogs, pointing out that we're pensioners now and that it's not compulsory to slave away in the midday sun; there's a lot to be said for taking it easy. He had a point, as I acknowledged to him.
One action I took was to clip the hairy twins, Russ and Mary, once again, as the next heat-wave looms. I had taken the clipper to them on our return from holiday in June, impressing Jones with my expertise. This time I really screwed up my attempt to trim Mary after carelessly gouging out a strip along her back.
After considering the damage, I thought it best to shave her evenly. Mary emerged looking like a newly-stripped sheep. I felt really ashamed of myself. There are consolations. She doesn't know how silly she looks, she's the coolest creature in the house and in a month she'll be as hairy as ever. Even so, I feel a proper twit!
I was impressed. The lid turns the barbeque into more of an oven than a simple grill (which you probably knew years ago, but anyhow), gives the chef a measure of control and negates the effects of the wind. The results were consumed with reassuringly approving sounds. Next experiment is to try cooking the chicken wings I bought at the same time.
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