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Sunday, February 02, 2014

Letter from Espargal: 1 February 2014

If I were to construct a wind turbine in Espargal, I would site it exactly where we built our house. For there is no windier spot in the village. And when that wind comes whipping down Benafim hill from the north, still laden with Siberian icicles, it is as bitter as it is unsettling, scattering the almond blossom, freezing Jonesy's hands and spooking the animals. It's hard to relax when the environment feels so ill at ease.

Five minutes' walk away, on the far side of the summit with its glorious views to the coast, the Espargalian winter transforms itself into a gentle, sunlit spring. But that area is out of bounds to house-builders (which, come to think of it, may not be a bad thing).

UP YOURS, MATE!

On really windy days (and some not so windy) the dogs are a pest. Wednesday was such a day. We had returned from our walk and were preparing to go to lunch when I received a message to say that Prickles had turned up at Marie's place, 200 metres away - not for the first time.

The warning came from Natasha, who was working there before coming on to us. So I hastened down the road to fetch our little dog, whom I found taking his ease in the living room. (He's still getting out through the fence somewhere in spite of our best efforts.)

NOT AS REPENTANT AS HE LOOKS

We returned to hear Jones gasp with exasperation as she entered the kitchen - one of those "I'm really upset" gasps. As sensitively as possible, I enquired as to the problem. The problem, it emerged, was Natasha's lunch or rather the disappearance thereof. Jones had barely taken it out of the freezer and set it on the work surface.

As she pointed out, the only remaining traces were a few crumbs on the plate. Our suspicions fell on Raymond but the evidence was circumstantial and he had taken the Fifth. So, with no other recourse and another sigh, Jones prepared lunch anew.

THERE'S NOT A LOT TO DO WHEN THE WIND BLOWS

She arrived at the car shortly afterwards feeling even more hassled. The wind was messing up her newly-washed hair and Bobby had also disappeared. I left her reassembling herself while I went to look for Bobby. I found him stuck behind a gate leading to the park and very pleased to be released.

Then we went to lunch. Some days are like that - out of synch.

However irritating these trials, we are aware that they are trivial. Rather more serious has been the death of Jet, one of two dogs belonging to Dutch neighbours at the end of our road.

After finding their pet badly out of sorts, they took him to the vet to discover that he'd suffered massive internal injuries, presumably after being struck by a vehicle.

His owners, to whom we expressed our sympathies, are really cut up by the episode - and little wonder. It's a dreadful thing to lose a pet in such circumstances.

Tuesday was busy, by our retirement standards at least. The morning brought the annual meeting with our accountants. I prepare a careful spreadsheet with details of our income and tax deductible outgoings. Expats are well aware of the awkward questions likely to be posed by Portugal's fiscal authorities who now have access to the Europe-wide bank accounts of foreign residents.

In the afternoon we rendezvoused with the local architect who introduced us to a solicitor in Loule who, he thinks, might be able to assist us to resolve a long-standing bureaucratic problem with our paperwork.

BARBARA, SARAH AND THE DOGS AT THE START OF THE HIKE

At lunch with May on Monday - I'm going backwards - we were joined by another neighbour, Nicoline as we chatted about a hike we'd taken the previous day. As it happens, Nicoline's partner, Anneke, is a great hiker. Nicoline told us that she'd bought a handheld GPS to guide Anneke, who'd sometimes gone off-route.

They'd downloaded the entire Via Algarviana trail on to the device so that even if Anneke did go wrong, the GPS indicated the shortest way back. They were both pleased with the results.

My ears pricked up as we had nearly gone astray ourselves several times during our two-hour hike with Sarah along a section of the Via Algarviana - a hiking trail that runs from the Spanish border to the west coast.

It was only Sarah's sharp eyes that spotted poorly-marked and unexpected deviations from the forestry roads along which the trail wound.

Many of the markings are small, faded and easily missed. Once or twice we had to leave the road to cross shallow streams where the choice was either to hop across stones or to take off one's footwear and wade.

I had the advantage of water-proof boots and hopped. My companions preferred to play it safe.

Last Friday was a red letter day. I got a call mid-afternoon to say that our new bed and mattress had arrived at the showroom in Loule and were ready for delivery. Within the hour, the van was at the gates. Jones was a bit taken back by the suddenness of it all.

I was more taken aback to find that the driver had no mate. I'd warned the shop that our weighty existing bed would have to be dismantled, carried downstairs and reassembled before the even weightier new bed could be carried upstairs to be installed in its place.

Carlos, the driver, strong and willing as he was, wasn't Superman; in spite of his "leave it to me" protestations, he needed a lot of help to manoeuvre the two heavy mattresses - one downstairs and one up - without knocking the paintings off the wall.

That aside, Carlos did a sterling job. Within the hour he had the last nuts tightened and the new mattress settled on the bed. It's a Queen-size as opposed to our previous double, designed with a similar wooden structure holding four drawers.

RELAXING AFTER THE HIKE

We are still watching the capers of our nightly interior designers. Another fascinating TV programme traced the reactions of two identical twins - both medical doctors - as one adopted a sugar-rich diet for a month and the other a fat-rich diet. The long and the short of it was that the outcomes were much the same; the real danger - as illustrated elsewhere - came from processed food containing high levels of both sugars and fats. Jones said we already knew that. It certainly made the point.

For my part, I am still intent on reducing my intake of both as I inch - should that be millimetre - down towards my 85kg target.

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