Monday mid-afternoon: This week is not starting out on a good note. Barbara, who was due to land in Faro shortly, is still waiting at Gatwick airport while Monarch repairs a fuel leak on her plane. Never mind that patience is undeniably preferable to haste, such delays remain both dull and frustrating - as we know so well - given the limited options for amusing oneself in a departure lounge.
At the same time I have to confess that this setback is not entirely bad news. I had earlier complained to my wife that her arrival was likely to coincide with the start of today's key football match between Portugal and Germany, much of which I may now be able to watch.
However, given both over the dubious fitness of Portugal's injury-prone captain, Ronaldo, and the Germans' selfish habit of running their opponents ragged, it may not prove easy viewing.
Let me thank Llewellyn for the pictures he sent from London of Barbara's visit. They include the shot below, taken at the south London home of a friend, Ann Christine, of a young fox visiting her garden.
They watched the scene in fascination from the window above. The visitor had a good sniff around before retiring to the small wood behind the house.
Football. Don't even mention it. It was worse than my worst fears - a calamity. The first half was so depressing that I was relieved to have to leave the match to fetch Barbara from the airport.
She arrived back in Faro three hours late. While we waited for her to emerge, Prickles amused himself by sweetie-pieing up to our fellow "waiters" and demanding head-scratches. None so cute as Prickles when he's in the mood.
Via Verde, the organisation that runs Portugal's toll roads and some public parking, has just brought Faro airport under its wing. As long as one is registered and has the small transponder stuck to one's windscreen, one can now just drive into the airport parking and drive out again. The barrier opens magically in front of the car. No more hunting around for tickets or fiddling around for change at the pay machine. I like it.
PARK SURROUNDS IT
CARPORT ROOF RIGHT OF THE HOUSE
CASA NADA TOP RIGHT
At least the day finished well. We supped under the stars at the Hamburgo. Manuel warned us as we left that the traffic police were lurking outside the supermarket just up the road. It might be in our interest to take the circuitous route home past the church, he suggested. We took his advice. Manuel is a useful man.
On inquiry it emerged that she had received only a single jar of night cream when I had ordered and paid for three.
I queried the delivery by email with the suppliers; no quibbling, they came back within minutes asking whether I wanted a refund or the missing items. I opted for the latter - to be delivered at no extra cost to Portugal this time. Fingers crossed.
Wednesday: May was feeling below par and decided not to join us for lunch yesterday. We still had to shop for her groceries and ours. She confirmed that the EDP technician had called at the house last week to adjust her electricity meter. Now she has only to wait for her bills to fall.
I watched the Brazil - Mexico match and was most impressed. The Mexicans weren't at all awed by the hosts' reputation and put up a great performance.
Thursday: Spain out! The champions vanquished - gods with feet of clay. Imagine flying home to those no longer adoring crowds. First class never felt so uncomfortable.
Tonight it's England's turn. I wouldn't put my money on them. I dare not even think about Portugal's next encounter.
For weeks now, TV and radio reception from one of the satellites has been patchy and growing worse. The picture has varied from near perfect (occasionally) to breaking up, frozen or non-existent. I couldn't figure it out. It didn't make sense.
The technician, whom I'd messaged to report the problem, rang yesterday to say he suspected that the dish had moved, possibly under high winds, and reception was right on the edge.
This morning I climbed a ladder to take a look. It wasn't the dish that had moved. It was the branches of the almond tree below it. In the few months since the dish had been installed, the branches had grown vigorously upward, obscuring the path to the satellite.
I spent an hour perched on the upper rungs, carefully snipping away with the big secateurs. What a difference! And what a pleasure to have perfect reception once again!
No comments:
Post a Comment