Letter from Espargal: 1 August 2014

THE DOGS SPOT THAT I HAVE HIDDEN UP A TREE DURING HIDE & SEEK

Today marks the start of the month of August (named after Augustus Caesar which, of course, you knew.) In these parts August means heat, holidays, tourists and the opening of the carob-picking and hunting seasons.

Because the trees are heavy with carobs this year, we shall have to do a lot of picking. As for the hunting, we shall have to pick our way more carefully around the hills on Thursdays and Sundays.

COME DOWN OR WE'LL COME UP AND FETCH YOU DOWN

While in Gilde's (most useful) hardware store, I heard Isidoro ask one of his clients whether he had painted his carobs black yet. While we knew well enough after 20 years that carobs start off as tiny green beans and finish off as large black ones, I had not heard the expression before. So I asked Isidoro what it meant. "It's really just a way of asking if your carobs are ready for picking," he told me. I have filed the expression in my mental New Portuguese Expressions folder.

IT TAKES A MINUTE OR TWO - I AM NOT AS AGILE AS I USED TO BE

It occurred to me that Isidoro (meaning "gift of Isis") was a strange name for an adult man to bear in Portugal, given that the former military regime refused to register any babies who were not named from a list of approved saints. And I had never come across a Saint Isidoro. However, a quick search revealed that Isidoro was a learned Spanish bishop in Seville cerca 600 A.D., subsequently canonised.

There were also, while we are on the subject, several Saints Terence, the list of whom I have no intention of joining. Given the uncertain rewards of sainthood, I can't see that it's worth the effort.

OK, HERE'S YOUR TREAT FOR BEING SO CLEVER

On the other hand I am still making a "tempered" effort to lose weight and have dropped below my personal red line. Mostly it's not too demanding - except that is when we sit down under the trees on the cobbled patio in the evening, the dogs at our feet.

I mix Jones a baggy (lemon juice, coke and ice) and try to content myself with a chilled fizzy water as I imagine the illusory slimmed-down shape that awaits me.

On Monday I sat down at the computer and went through the excursions being offered on our Black Sea cruise in October. The excursions that we were really keen on were those on offer at the three stops originally scheduled in Crimea. But since Mr Putin decided to annex Crimea, the cruise has been rerouted around it - much to our regret.

Even so, we have opted for (although not yet paid for) half a dozen excursions in Turkey, Greece, Bulgaria and Romania, mainly half-day walking tours of ancient sites. Just 60 days to go. We are really looking forward to it.

Tuesday, before we fetched May for lunch, I chased up the lawyer who had submitted our Casa Nada registration request to the council to ask if she'd heard anything. (There'd been no response from her to an email inquiry from me a few days earlier.)

I found her just leaving her office and accompanied her down the road as she hurried to an appointment. The council had rejected our request, she informed me, because we had done work on Casa Nada (true - if only minor) without permission. That was news to us, unwelcome, but news none the less. The lawyer was under the impression that we'd received a letter to that effect. We hadn't. At least we now know the position.

Wednesday we took Ono to the vet. He's our oldest dog, discovered as a still-blind, wailing, furry handful under a bush near the Quintassential on the eve of the new millennium (2000 i.e. rather than 2001 - if you recall that controversy!) and hand-raised. In spite of his graying eyebrows and muzzle and twin cataracts, he still manages the hour-long morning walk across the hills. He nearly always accompanies us in the car and he tends to follow me from room to room.

But - and here's the rub - he's begun to develop a slight bladder problem.

The vet wanted a urine sample from him before deciding what to prescribe for his bladder. (Later: We hear that there's no infection. The vet has ordered pills that will arrive on Monday.)

Thursday, as we went shopping, we came across Natasha's car with the hood raised on the side of the road with Natasha waiting beside it. The car has long had either an electrical or computer problem that's proved difficult to diagnose (without putting it through mega-expensive workshop tests). On this occasion Natasha said that "fumo" (either smoke or steam) had risen from the engine and the car had drifted to a halt. She couldn't restart it and was waiting for Slavic to rescue her.

The midday news was all about the multi-billion euro loss recorded by BES (the troubled Bank of the Holy Spirit) in the first half of the year.

The pyramid of holding companies is shrouded in financial murk, the share price has collapsed, the former boss is in court, the administrators have been replaced and accusations are flying around.

That the situation is nervous-making is putting it mildly - and not only for investors. Portugal's austerity-laden economy is barely staggering along and hardly in a position to deal with a mega-bankruptcy.

Thursday evening we joined neighbours, Sarah and David, for a sundown supper at the "telef" (beacon) that sprouts from the hilltop above us. The views are down across the great Algarve plain to the distant Atlantic.

We have often fantasized about having our house on the southern slopes of the hill with its glorious sunny outlook - not that we're unhappy with the prospect across the valley to the northern hills.

But the south is virgin hillside and Portugal's strict zoning regulations now ensure that any new building takes place only in approved areas. You can still build a house with authorization but you won't get any services to it and you'll never sell it.

THE POT PLANTS DEMAND DAILY ATTENTION

August, like July, demands at least an hour's watering - often two - of the garden each afternoon/evening.

Jones divides the garden into three sections, one of which gets watered each day.

This takes up a lot of her time and more than a little of mine.

I have adopted half a dozen spreading pumpkin (or similar) plants that have sprung up from seeds in various beds and require daily refreshment.

They're flowering nicely.

All we await now are the pumpkins.