Letter from Espargal: Letter from Espargal: 15 September 2013

I have observed down the years that in mid September the Algarve weather tips suddenly, like a seesaw, from summer to autumn. But if it's about to tip this year the weatherman doesn't know about it - or he isn't telling. (I suppose that in this gender-neutral age I should refer to the weather person but that sounds so dreadfully dull.) "Hot" remains the outlook, apart from showers that may be coming our way.

Hot it certainly was when we arrived at Cortes on Friday morning with a bag full of ice-creams for the archaeological team from Jena University that's excavating there once again. (They've been working on Roman remains at Cortes and in Espargal for several years.) A dozen or more distractingly attractive, bronzed workers were delighted to see us; they happily downed tools to consume the ice-creams and to bestow on Ono and Prickles as much affection as even the demanding Prickles could handle.

Most of them, like the university, were of German origin; this year, however, they include three Polish students who, like us, have to converse with the rest of the team in English. Cathy, of course, was happy to chat away in German. The team's numbers are about to swell with the arrival of 8 visitors who have paid for the privilege of taking part in the dig - a new kind of holiday.

Dennis, the team leader, showed us a small bottle in which they had collected tiny mosaic tiles and a fragment of glass. The mosaics were generally made up in Egypt, he told us, and then exported as completed images to other parts of the Roman world. (What's new?)

Hot it also was on Thursday when we took a bootful of dogfood to the canine refuge on the heights of Goldra. This too was gratefully received. We try to make a delivery once a month.

Cathy - returning to my sister - arrived from Berlin on Wednesday evening. Her hand-luggage was minutely examined at Tegel airport and her suitcase gone through behind the scenes by the German police, actions she ascribed to her travelling on the anniversary of 9-11. Nonetheless she arrived early and unscathed with her goods intact, surviving a clamorous welcome from the dogs. She has quickly resumed her watering duties and otherwise made herself at home. She's a very easy guest.

Her husband is backpacking across Scotland, his favourite outdoor activity. Cathy showed me a website at which she is able to follow his progress via a special satellite phone that he is carrying. The phone communicates its exact position, as well as the state of its battery. It has an emergency button which, if pressed, sends an SOS with this information to the nearest rescue centre.

BBQ TIME

Slavic has been back to build in the discharge pipes that Paulo, the plumber, laid from Casa Nada when he installed the washing machine there last week. As it happened, Paulo omitted to tighten a nut connecting a supply pipe to a tap. Although the system functioned perfectly when we tested it, the nut worked itself loose with explosive results. Barbara arrived on the scene to discover water hosing itself all over the show and the floor swimming. I shut the water off and tightened the nut, resolving the problem. I wish they were all that easy.

Paulo also installed a new thermostat on the rooftop solar water-heater, curing a long-standing issue that we've had with fluctuating temperatures in the showers, especially in summer when the water in the tank sizzles. Showerers have risked being frozen and fried by turns. Since the installation of the new thermostat, taking a shower has been a real pleasure.

Like all visitors, Paulo had to run the gauntlet of the dogs which, after sniffing him keenly, allowed him to proceed. He's an avid hunter with several of his own dogs. We remarked to him how quiet the valley had been on hunting days when previously it had echoed to the crackle of gunfire. This was because there were no rabbits, he told us.

They had been virtually wiped out by a liver disease, leaving the hunters without their principal quarry. However, on returning from supper in Benafim one night, we spotted a single rabbit dashing across the road - the first we've seen in months. Evidently, some have survived the plague.

We were accosted at the snack-bar in Benafim by the Socialist Party candidate for the local elections at the end of the month, along with an enthusiastic fellow canvasser. The pair of them promised us all kinds of improvements in our lives if we voted him in. Although we heard them out politely we refrained from committing ourselves.

Most Benafimmers are outraged at having been lumped with two distant villages in a new parish as part of austerity measures - and would vote for anybody who would lump them out again. In reality, life will continue very much along its present path who-ever is elected - not that there's any point in pressing this view with aspiring politicians.

At the bottom of the village, engineers have been hooking up electricity supply wires to the post they erected last week. We stopped for a word to hear whether it was just the village they were intended to supply or whether the line would carry on. They weren't sure. I look forward to seeing in due course what difference, if any, the new line makes.

Let me finish as I started with the season. We woke one morning to swooping swallows (swifts, martins?), struggling (us) with the camera to capture the tiny birds as they swept around the house. They know better than we do what lies ahead and when to prepare for their long journey south.

Well, not quite finish, for here follows a mini drama in pictures:

The dogs have been closed into the house while I go off to hide. On my call, Cathy opens the door and the dogs rush out. As they do so, Raymond tramps on little Poppy, our guest dog, who is outraged at such treatment.

The vengeful Poppy jumps up to bite the offending Raymond, letting him know that she is not go to put up with being tramped on under any circumstances.