Letter from Espargal: 13 June 2014

Summer arrived this week and in a rush, as though to make up for lost time. Temps started out in the high teens and finished in the low thirties. It suits Jones better than it suits me. I'm for shutting the shutters and closing out the heat. She's for opening the shutters and letting in the light. 'Twas ever thus.

At least we got our TV back, barely a day after the encryption was changed. Joao emailed me a file with the new key, I stuck it on a USB pen and five minutes later we were watching the pictures again.

Let me take the week a day at a time.

Saturday: Slavic was back for yet more stone pavements. He does great work.

Monday: May said she wouldn't come to lunch; her TV wasn't working (yet again) and she was waiting for her man-Friday to come and fix it. Our longstanding hairdresser, Fatima, just back from her visit to Egypt, fitted me in for a trim at 12.15.

She said that Egypt was the place to go if you wanted to see old stones of every description - which is one way of looking at it. When I emerged from her salon, I had four disconcerting little black dots dancing around in front of my right eye. The nearby pharmacy provided me with some eye drops. But if anything, they simply made the black dots clearer.

MARY'S GARDEN

Only four of the regular six pupils were at my English class, the last of the academic year. Virgilio had passed away the previous week and his widow, Severiana, was absent. She dispatched a note thanking us for the letter of sympathy that we had sent her. She said she was asking God for strength to accept the loss.

They had been together for some 60 years. Their separation was like splitting a tree asunder. We reflected that grief was the price of love. I asked the remaining four if they wanted to carry on next year. They all said they did. They presented me with a bottle of Antiquissima (the oldest of the old) for my troubles.

The EDP phoned late afternoon to say that a technician would be calling on May on Thursday to adjust her electricity. We phoned May to let her know.

A small van drew up outside the gates to the usual clamorous reception from the dogs. The fellow who emerged identified himself as the photographer in the two-man paraglider that we had seen drifting over Espargal a few days earlier. He had half a dozen photos of our property in which he hoped to interest us. Framing cost from €25 to €200, depending on the size. We opted for two midsize pictures, due for delivery towards the end of the week.

BEGONIA

Tuesday - a public holiday in Portugal: I still had little floaters dancing around in my right eye - at night, flashing lights. Jones said I might have a detached retina. It hadn't occurred to me. We looked up the symptoms and they fitted like a suit from Jermyn Street. Your eyesight might be in peril, the medical sites warned; prompt medical attention was essential. Scary stuff!

I called my GP who said he was off duty but would alert a colleague at the medical centre - adding drily that it was best to avoid medical emergencies on public holidays. I promised to do my best.

Jones said it was time that medical problems came her way for a while rather than mine. I said be careful what you wish for. To be sure, I have found myself for some time now being over-supportive of the medical community.

Wednesday: The receptionist called to say I had an appointment at 15.00. The ophthalmologist was sceptical of do-it-yourself internet diagnoses. He checked my vision - 20/20 good news! - and then put some pupil-dilating drops in my eyes and told me to wait.

THE LAST POPPIES

Fifteen minutes later he called me back and attached me to various machines. The bottom line was no detached retina - brilliant! - but age-related "posterior vitreous detachment and floaters". (Feel free!) No surgery required. Self-correcting in six months - if you're lucky.

I had feared emergency surgery, ruining - among other things - the three-day visit to London that Jones has booked for the weekend.

When I emerged from the consulting rooms into the bright afternoon sunshine, I was blinded by the cobbles. I had to retreat inside to phone Jones, who was walking the dogs, and ask her to bring my sunglasses from the car. Even then, she had to lead me by the arm. Beware dilated pupils in the sunshine!

We supped at the Hamburgo with the gang, who had offered to drive me down to the surgery. I was pleased to share the good news with them. Manuel, the restaurateur, said his new waitress had resigned. Her boyfriend had disapproved of her hours. There are lots of people out of work, he reflected, but they want to go home at five - and restaurants don't close at five. The chicken and pineapple kebabs were scrumptious.

Thursday: It's hot. The dogs and I cut short our walk. They were panting from the start. Forty minutes was ample. Jones went on a while. She needs to do a lot of walking.

We drove into Benafim to collect a parcel from the parish office - a cut glass whisky tumbler from the Ferretts to replace one that we (not they) had broken. What a nice thought!

Then we stopped for coffee, a cake and a baggie at the Ponto do Encontro. I managed to find parking in the shade of a tree for the dogs. Windows wide open. The place was busy and so was Tania, trying to stay up with orders.

JACARANDAS IN BENAFIM

We paused at Leonhilde's to fetch the loaf of special bread that's delivered on our behalf each week. She says she went to investigate one morning what was upsetting her dogs, which are confined in a small yard. Just the other side of the fence she saw two large wild boar nonchalantly consuming the almond nuts that had fallen from the tree above. They wandered off in their own time. Cool customers - and best left alone.

Friday: To the airport with Jonesy. She's due back on Monday evening.