Last weekend brought Benafim's, an occasion that unites everyone who's anyone in the town and lots of people who aren't anybody at all.
We went along on Sunday night, I to enjoy my annual plate of pork and porridge, Jonesy and neighbours for the barbecued chicken and all of us for the fado.
The festa has a serious purpose as well as a social one.
The profits go towards the completion of Benafim's retirement home, an institution that's sorely needed given the number of retired people in these parts.
On Monday the government announced that it was rescuing the troubled Bank of the Holy Spirit at a cost of several billion euros. Relieved as we were to know that our investment would be safe, we were more concerned to know when we could fetch Ono's incontinence muti from the vet.
While we waited for a call, I set about confirming the cruise excursions that we had earlier reserved online. This was easier said than done. After logging in to the cruise-line website, clients can choose from a list of options including Excursions. When they choose Excursions, they are instructed to LOG IN to the site - and so on.
It gets worse. After extricating myself from this vicious circle and filling in my details, I hit SUBMIT PAYMENT - only to have the screen freeze; an email followed, informing me that all our excursions had been cancelled.
I called the helpline in the US where a polite but unhelpful person advised me to call the travel agency instead. Clara, the travel agent, couldn't access our booking online but promised to sort out the problem the next day. She's the kind of person who keeps her promises.
When the vet did call, it was to say that Ono's medicine would arrive the following morning. Before that we got a "HELP PLEASE" SMS from the dog refuge in Goldra saying that they'd run out of food. Could we bring forward our monthly delivery? We could.
Lidl is where we shop for basics. We loaded the car with bags of biscuits and cans of meat. The refuge is situated high on Goldra hill overlooking Loule, at the end of a bad road, some distance from the nearest houses . (En route we fetched Ono's drops from the vet - to be administered three times a day, the vet said. Ono hates them!)
Although she is recovering from a recent back injury, Marisa still hefted two bags of dog food at a time from the boot and carried them down to the gates.
It wasn't prudent. I warned her - with the weight of 30 years' experience - to treat her back gently or face the consequences. She earnestly assured me she would as she went back to fetch another two bags.
Mid-morning Marie texted me to say that Portugal Telecom was sending her publicity, using my email as a reference (never mind the detail). Perturbed that my personal details might be at large, I went to see PT in Faro. Half a dozen young PT ladies were addressing customers' needs and their own.
I explained my concern to one of them. When she failed to allay it, I insisted on seeing her boss. The boss explained that my name was linked to Marie's in their system, probably because I had reported her number out of order at some point. And she assured me that nobody else was getting my details. OK!
We lunched on cheese and ham sandwiches and a glass of red wine each at a café (1 Maio) we have recently discovered in the hamlet of Funchais, about half way to Loule.
It offers easy parking, shady seating on the patio (for us and dogs) friendly service and excellent fare at silly prices.
With temperatures now up in the mid-30s, finding suitable parking and somewhere for Ono and Prickles to conceal themselves beneath a table becomes a priority.
Mid-afternoon Clara emailed me to say that she had been in touch with the cruise line and we ought now to be able to finalise the excursions. So I tried again - with the same result. Very frustrating!
A last attempt and finally I succeeded - success I shared with Clara, adding a detailed, distinctly unflattering account of my experiences on the buggy website. She replied that she had forwarded it to the cruise company. I recall similar shenanigans before our fjords cruise. The office staff were hopeless - although the cruise itself was brilliant.
Wednesday we took May to lunch. Beforehand, while Barbara did May's shopping, I squeezed in a haircut with Fatima. Fatima works alone, cutting men's hair, in a small salon off the main drag. She'll do women's too as long as it's just a wash and cut. Fatima is very popular and it's wise to book an appointment.
She grew up in France and switches effortlessly between French and Portuguese to suit her customers. I asked her which language came more readily. They were the same, she told me, although there were words in each that she couldn't easily render in the other.
In the afternoon we headed for a medical centre at Quinta do Lago, where I had an appointment. While I waited we sipped coffee at a café overlooking the immaculate greens. The resort is a parallel universe, bereft of life's potholes and weeds. Some uninspiring golfers were hacking their balls down the fairway. Evidently wealth doesn't guarantee talent.
I wasn't there for the golf. My annual crop of heat bumps has gone viral. I look as though I've been used for shotgun target practice. Jones reckons they're insect bites rather than a heat allergy. The dermatologist agreed.
As usual, he also zapped me with his gas gun. It stings for half an hour, especially in the sun. I drove home feeling like a human dart board - although it occurred to me that I wouldn't get much sympathy from the people of Gaza. What a catastrophe!
Thursday: It's bloody hot. We walked early, while the sun was still rousing itself. After coffee and post in Benafim, I blogged and Jones gardened in the shade. And thus the days pass.
We have invested in two new appliances - a (lemon) fruit juicer that works just fine and a mosquito enticer-cum-zapper that the mosquitoes mock at night before they stuka down on me.
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