Letter from Espargal: 15 November 2013

Tuesday was not a good day. It started bad and it ended worse. First snag was a breakdown in communications between my offshore bank and my mobile phone. That meant that I couldn't receive bank texts to verify transactions - and that meant I couldn't do any business online.

I spent hours on the phone to the Channel Islands. Martin, Laura, Alan, Chris and a call centre person in India, as well as Vodafone here in Portugal, all tried to sort the problem out - in vain. The only proposed solution was to cancel my texting service and to reinstate it. The bank cancelled it alright. But as I couldn't receive the text necessary to reinstate it, the move wasn't very helpful. (The problem remains.)

FLOWERS OF THE FIELD (RANUNCULUS)

Hitch Two was an expired security certificate that my email programme allegedly encountered; the programme threw up its hands in horror and refused to send any more emails until the certificate was rectified. Talk about bloody cyber bureaucracy! Striking emails are just as upsetting as an incommunicado bank. (I managed to sort that one out)

Hassle Three: Turning to my smartphone to send an email, I somehow managed to download a nightmare home-screen called BLINKFEED that tried to take over the device. Much frantic googling followed.

Finally, as we returning with the dogs from a calming afternoon walk, all hell broke loose on the path 50 metres ahead of us. We hastened towards the fray. Talk about sound and fury. A tumble of shrieking dogs scattered the undergrowth. Our lot had run into the two Dutch dogs - their sworn fence-barking enemies - out with their mistress.

With much walking-stick waving and some whacking we managed to separate the combatants - and then to hold a reasonably civil conversation with the mistress. Since no obvious damage had been done to any of the beasts, we parted on polite terms, shepherding our still-bristling warriors firmly ahead of us.

As I say, it wasn't a good day.

The rest of the week was blessedly less stressful. My first task was to rough-patch the hole that the dogs had bashed in the fencing that runs along a low garden wall. (Twice we came home to find the lads desporting themselves in the road.) When Slavic arrived on Wednesday I set him to line the top of the wall with our remaining cobbles to pin the wire fencing firmly into place.

FROM THE INSIDE

He repeated the exercise with cement on the inside of the fence to ensure that the gang couldn't rip the wire free. They (mainly) behave themselves when we're home. It's when we go out that they start causing mischief. We came home one evening to find one of Jonesy's cushions rent asunder with its contents scattered around the yard.

Thursday Slavic and I set to work to erect missing marker stones around the property. The authorities (in an effort to establish who owns what) now require all land-owners to site such markers at the boundaries of their properties. Most of ours were already in place. We concreted in three new ones and then painted them all white. I have yet to add my initials to those sides of the markers that face our property.

BOBBY COMES TO INSPECT THE WORK

Another paint job was required for the hall wall that is to take the display shelf unit under construction in Sergio's workshop. I'd already removed several paintings from the wall, withdrawn the mounts and filled the drill holes that were left. Slavic sanded down these repairs before painting them out of sight.

We've been into Loule a couple of times to consult with Sergio on details of the unit. He has now prepared the carcass and is busy with the trimmings. Delivery should be towards the end of next week.

While in Loule I bought a new oil filter for the tractor (that Vitor serviced last weekend), giving the salesman the specifications on the existing Bosch filter. He didn't stock Bosch but supplied me with another that he insisted was equivalent. As the picture shows, when I came to change them over, I had my doubts. So back I took it, only to be reassured that according to the computer the two filters were interchangeable and the size didn't matter. I retain my doubts and will speak to Vitor before I go any further.

ON THE COTTAGE PATIO

We've been out a couple of times with UK friends, Mike and Lyn, who are staying in a cottage nearby. They've been blessed with ideal weather, warm days and cool nights with nary a hint of rain (sad to say - my fava beans are waiting to be sown). One afternoon, baggies in her backpack, Barbara led us all to the top of Espargal hill to watch the sunset. The views down to the distant coast are hard to beat.

At exactly 17.25 a flattened red orb sizzled into the sea. Jonesy always looks out for a green ray as the sun disappears. We didn't see one this time. I should add that I felt about green rays the same way I feel about little green men from Mars until, that is, Jones dug out a scientific explanation on why they were occasionally visible.

Another evening we took ourselves to the Zip Zip restaurante in Purgatorio to celebrate Mike's birthday. (Who named the place Purgatory and why I've no idea!)

PALE MOON RISING

Although I've been out to several meals since our return from holiday last month, my glass has contained only water. Cutting out cakes, desserts and most carbohydrates, as well as alcohol from my diet, I've been losing about half a kilo a week as I head towards my 85kg target. I'm aware that Christmas is going to interrupt the programme.

Most noticeable has been the drop in my blood pressure, prompting me to cut back sharply on long-standing medication. The impact of alcohol and excess weight on bp is all too clear.

BUZZARDS PREPARING TO MIGRATE

Jonesy rushed outside with the camera one morning after being alerted to the flock of buzzards that was circling effortlessly over the hillside. Their annual gathering and migration is a spectacular event. The birds were suspended on a thermal that was sweeping them rapidly westwards and this picture was all she managed to snap.