When I send emails from the gmail app on my mini-iPad, the device posts them off with a little "whoosh", which gives one the reassuring sense that they are being speedily delivered. Well that's how the week went, with a whoosh, taking along what was left of October.
It began with our usual Monday May outing and an intense English class on how to ask questions in the English language. If you're a native English speaker it will never have occurred to you just how complicated a process this is. In Portuguese, much of the time, all you need to do to turn a statement into a question is to replace the full stop with a question mark. But in English, unless you are beginning your sentence with one of the five question words, you need to use a complex system of auxiliary verbs and main verbs that my pupils find quite exacting. And little wonder.
MELONS - EXCHANGED FOR OUR CAROBS
Also on Monday we went along to the Linen Warehouse on the outskirts of Almancil and purchased a body-form mattress topper. Before I elaborate, I should report that our neighbours, Sarah and David, recently acquired one of those fancy new, multi-layer mattresses - and subsequently sang its praises. Sarah, like me, often clutches her back. My ears flapped.
It so happens that I have been on the lookout for a new mattress for some time to replace our sturdy 25-year old model. Jones, as ever, wants to know what's wrong with the old one. It's not that there's anything particularly wrong with it, it's just that I've slept on bigger and better ones.
PERCHANCE TO DREAM
In my perfect world, we'd invest in a queen-sized bed with an appropriate mattress. Jones insists it wouldn't fit. I reckon it would, albeit with a bit of a squeeze. In the mean time, as a compromise, we've acquired the mattress topper. It came rolled up in a tight ball, like a sleeping bag, which had to be cut free of its plastic sheath, and then took 24 hours, as advised, to expand to its full dimensions. To be sure, it's very comfortable. That's not to say that that the queen-sized bed has been written off - just put off.
SERGIO'S CUPBOARDS
Finally on Monday, Sergio, the master carpenter whose has made several items of furniture for us, called around to measure up for some shelves. Sergio used to run a thriving "made to measure" business in Loule, employing half a dozen apprentices. That was before the "crise" struck and Portugal had to go cap in hand to the money lenders.
For a time thereafter he worked for a Belgian who had the idea of making quality furniture in Portugal and exporting it to Belgium. But when transport costs killed that enterprise, Sergio reopened his workshop and fired off emails to all his old clients to say that he was back in business (this time with a single assistant).
As for the shelves - in spite of having three display cabinets in the living room, we have found ourselves without space to display our ceramics, glassware and other knick-knacks. This is partly because of Jones's fondness for acquiring little bowls and partly because the senior university presents its teachers each
year with some ornate glass or metal item that has to be kept somewhere.
On Tuesday I got the shakes after our morning walk. That was the first complaint my body has registered regarding the reduced calorie intake that it's been subjected to since our return from holiday. Nothing fancy - just avoiding sweets, cakes, desserts and alcohol until I can get back into several pairs of trousers now languishing in my cupboard. Jones, anxious lest I fade away, produces mountainous salad, vege and chicken dinners to sustain me.
The recent rains and grey horizons have given way to blue skies and gentle sunny days - my time of year. As in the UK, our clocks went back last weekend. It's now dusk by 18.00 and dark soon after, which brings long evenings. The fires we lit last week to keep the house cosy, we now light to keep warm - although night temps are still just in double figures. The dogs find places around the fire and we look carefully at the TV schedule to choose the best of the night's viewing - while we have it. We're due to lose all our UK channels when the transmissions move to new satellites sometime soon.
One thing we omitted to do when we constructed the house was to build in a cat-flap. This omission has proved to be a pain. Although we generally leave the back door open to allow the dogs to come and go (via the enclosed patio) at night, the cats don't like that route. Instead Jones leaves the kitchen window open - which invites insects in summer and a cold blast in winter.
To reduce the latter to a minimum, I used my jig-saw to cut out the frame you see here - a decided improvement on the cardboard insert we used last year. But if we build any more houses, they shall be designed with catflaps, cats or no cats. And probably dog-flaps as well.
Our friends, David and Dagmar, had virtually completed the furnishing of their new townhouse when we went around to admire it last weekend. It's roomy and really well finished, with views over the park, close enough to stroll into central Loule while being away from the hustle and bustle. Our admiration was as genuine as their delight. They took us to a posh lunch to celebrate.
PAULA AND ALAIN
Another outing was to the Hamburgo for dinner with neighbours. As I was returning from the restaurant washroom, a young woman sitting at the bar asked me if I was the author of the Letter-from-Espargal blog. I confessed, greatly suprised, that I was. She identified herself as Paula, owner of a nearby holiday house and a fan of the blog, saying she recognised me from the pictures. She hailed from Newcastle, where she delighted in showing pictures of Benafim to her work colleagues. Here she is with her French neighbour, Alain.
Finally, we found a note in our postbox midweek to say that the electricity would be cut for a couple of hours on Friday morning to allow workers to connect up the new supply - one we've watched creeping across the fields for a month or two. And so it was. Midday it came back on, reminding us of just how vital a part it plays in our lives.
I have to say that the new electricity works very much the same way as the old electricity - although the supply should now be much more stable.
A few years ago I was delegated to see the city electrical engineer in Loule because the supply in winter was often so low that we could barely turn the lights on - never mind the oven.
Not many years before that, folks around here were ploughing with oxen or mules and light came from a lamp in the living room. As so often, we count our blessings.
SOME MISTAKE, SURELY!
