Letter from Espargal: 23 November 2013

So, another week has been wrapped up and packed off to where-ever they go. Pause for a head scratch! Monday was unremarkable except that Jones left a letter at home and I my English lesson so that I had to abandon her and May at lunch in Loule to fetch the items from Espargal. As it happens, May is a slow eater and I was back in the restaurant in time for coffee.

My class that afternoon found English tenses difficult to grasp. They tend to say things like: "The boy has grapes ate".

I found it hard to explain to why the boy "ate grapes"; "did eat grapes"; "has eaten grapes" but "has been eating grapes". Little wonder they struggle.

Not that they got much sympathy from me; I have fought my way for

LLEWELLYN-LUCIA'S LONDON CATS

years through the jungle of Portuguese tenses, which are vastly more complex than English. There are formal and informal forms of the verb and monsters such as personal infinitives. How primitive peoples ever evolved or embraced such complexities is beyond me.

On Tuesday we sowed our beans. I had been holding back, waiting for rain - of which there's been little sign (until this weekend!). November has been a dry, sunny month. As we dropped May back home I bumped into her gardener, Manuel, who assured me that now was the time to plant, under the full moon. The seeds would wait for the rain, said he, and spring up when it came.

Dubious as I am about the effects of moonshine on agriculture, Jones and I set about sowing the beans in the furrows I'd ploughed the previous week. I tossed handfuls of fertiliser into the furrows at 50cm intervals while Jones followed with the beans. She then raked them over. I would gladly have done so myself except that my back disagrees with rakes (spades, pick-axes etc). Now all we have to do is wait for the rain to rouse

the seeds and April to pick the beans.

Wednesday we visited Sergio's workshop to inspect our nearly-completed display cabinet. The picture shows it looking a great deal barer than it will look in our hall as it lacks the multiple adjustable shelves still to be fitted. Delivery is scheduled for Friday afternoon. I have promised Sergio that I will spread the word about his good work.

SEPTEMBER ALTE FAIR

Thursday morning we took ourselves to Alte's monthly fair. Many of the stalls are manned by gypsies (Romany, if you prefer), who pile the tables high with bags, shoes and clothing and greet foreign-looking folk (like me) with cries of "good morning my friend, very good, very cheap!". It's fair to say that not everything on offer should be judged by its label or would appeal to discriminating shoppers. Nonetheless I was tempted by a denim waistcoat - at least until the zip stuck when I was trying it on.

At that point I wisely desisted and fled the scene, pursued by the stall-keeper who dropped the price in vain as she hurried after me.

THE HAUL
I did however purchase several bottles of jam and paste from students of the nearby hotel school. Four of them, standing around their table, struggled - without their calculators - to tot up the value of two bottles priced at €3 and three priced at €1.50. So I teased them as I totalled the bill and paid it. Mental arithmetic, where art thou?

ARCHIVE MARIE & OLLY
Marie and Olly were recounting as they passed our gate that they had been stopped at the airport roundabout the previous evening by the traffic police as part of a routine checking and breathalyzing exercise. (Olly passed with flying colours!) Roundabouts are favourite venues for such traps. Although well-dined Espargalians know how to avoid the local roundabouts, some - like that at the airport - are just unavoidable. I have thought about acquiring one of those "test yourself" kits to get a better idea of just when I reach the legal limit.

Not that this has been a consideration of late. It is now just over a month since I have taken any alcohol, a state of affairs that may cause my

acquaintance some small surprise. This continuing period of abstinence is part of my campaign to slim down.

After our Sunday morning walk is when I weigh myself to appreciate the fruits of the previous week's efforts. As it happens, last Saturday evening we had enjoyed a barbeque with friends.

And in spite of my relative abstemiousness, the scales declared - however many times I climbed off and on again - that I had gained a kilo rather than losing one. Even though scales are famously mendacious, I found this a bit disheartening. (Things have since improved.)

My brother-in-law, Robbie, has drawn my attention to Amira Willighagen, a young Dutch girl who was unknown until she entered a talent competition. I googled her and was blown away by her performance on uTube. If you haven't come across her yet, do yourself a favour. She's quite extraordinary.

PS. I also googled the expression "short shrift" as I couldn't work out its origins. Fascinating stuff!

PPS. Friday afternoon. Sergio and Leonardo arrived promptly to install our new display shelving in the hall. We designed it to fit into a niche, with multiple shelves that could be easily removed or adjusted up or down. And it's just perfect. Or, at least, we think so. Jonesy has set about removing some of her many treasures from the overcrowded cabinets on either side of the new unit and arranging them on the shelves.