The day dawned cloudy and cool, with a hint of rain. We moved the six bags of cement that Luis delivered (along with a metre of stone dust) while we were walking the dogs. Rain is unusual in June but not unknown and I'd be sorely irritated to lose my cement. Slavic is due back tomorrow to carry on with his stone paving.
On Monday I shall give my last lesson of the Senior University's (none too demanding) academic year. I am still uncertain about whether to continue my English conversation classes in the new term, given the falling attendance.
Last Monday I arrived at class to hear that Virgilio, one of my stalwarts, had keeled over at a meeting a few days earlier and expired. He and his wife, Severiana, have been with me from the start. I was shocked - and sad to have missed his funeral.
Much as young people tend to attend weddings, pensioners willy nilly find themselves attending funerals for reasons not hard to discern. It occurs to me that several of my neighbours are great-grandparents. In just over a month my wife will turn 70. And not long after that I will follow suit.
Not in my wildest imagination as a youth could I have envisaged reaching such an advanced age. The thought of it is a little scary. Jones says it's just a number. I know that. It's the size of the number that makes me nervous. Still there's not much choice.
She likes the bracelet as much as I do, which is lucky. She recently read an article about Swarovksi which said that the chain was going downhill until the founder's great, great grand-daughter, Nadja, took the helm, began commissioning new designers and expanded the range.
This will be difficult as people are already being squeezed until the pips squeak. I would love to win a fortune on the Euromillions, mainly to support a number of local groups that really need a boost, including the local fire service, which is painfully short of professional gear as the fire season looms once again.
My bank manager called me in the other day for a chat. He says things are improving. (I have to confess a deeply ingrained suspicion of bank managers' motives, now that bankers have to meet targets flogging company products.) A few years ago, he tells me, two enterprises were closing for every one that opened. Now it's the reverse. Maybe it's true. But it hasn't got through to the man in the street (or his wife!).
I am pleased to report that all is well on the phone front. Jones is settling down with her Samsung Young. I recovered all my lost apps after Llewellyn told me how to go about it - so easy when you know.
On Wednesday we collected May and a host of documents - listed earlier by a call-centre assistant - and took ourselves to the EDP in Faro to sort out her electricity.
May got summoned to the front of the queue (upsetting folks who'd arrived before her), the young lady assisting us was helpful and the task was soon accomplished (albeit at our second attempt; last time we lacked the property title). A celebratory lunch at Apolonia in Almancil followed.
Thursday was complicated. Slavic arrived at 08.30 as usual - or would have if he'd been able to get past the council tractor that was shaving the village's heavily overgrown verges.
I set him to work before we set out on a short walk. I had to get back in time to fetch a load of stones from the valley before going off to attend a meeting with Natasha and the vendor of the house she hopes to buy.
However, Jones dropped her mobile phone on the walk and we had to go hunting for that first. We found it on the road, fortunately undamaged.
I spent the rest of the day working with Slavic - on more stone patios, as ever.
One of these days the place is going to look wonderful.
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