Letter from Espargal: 28 November 2014

This hasn't been an easy week, what between the weather, the damage it's caused to my devices and a nervous tic from the car. The weather began with the wicked storm last week and continued with mighty downpours interspersed with showers most other days.

I thought we'd got off lightly from the storm when our TV set survived the lightning strike, as reported. But I subsequently discovered that my uninterruptible power supply and my router booster had fallen victim to it, along with our twin Skype phones. (Barbara bumped into neighbours whose electronics had also been whacked by the bolt.)

THE HYENAS WAIT TO POUNCE ON PRICKLE'S LEFT-OVERS

After obtaining a new UPS and Devolo booster, with Llewellyn's assistance I spent hours vainly trying to resurrect the Skype phones; they would take incoming landline calls but wouldn't Skype or dial out.

It would seem that the base station has given up the ghost. (We are still able to Skype via our iPads but they're not as convenient.)

On Sunday the car, which has behaved impeccably for the first five years of its life, suddenly flashed up a warning of an engine fault. The handbook said take the car to a dealer asap. The warning sign persisted.

So we phoned May to cancel Monday lunch and I presented myself bright and early that morning at Honda in Faro. In fact, when I arrived, there wasn't a soul around. The receptionist, whom I knew, was the first on the scene. I explained the situation. She didn't think it critical and booked me in for attention the next morning - the first opening.

SMALL OLIVES FROM UNGRAFTED TREES STAINING THE STEPS

As I left Honda the warning image disappeared from the instrument panel and didn't return. So I cancelled the appointment. My fingers are still crossed.

That afternoon I asked my English class whether the cells at Lisbon's police HQ were comfortable. The question provoked some lively conversation.

Portugal has been agog all week at the arrest, interrogation and confinement of its last socialist prime minister, José Sócrates.

Mr Sócrates was detained last Friday on his return from (his luxury apartment in) Paris, charged with financial crimes relating to his period in office. Also confined are his driver, who moved suitcases of money out of the country, and a business friend.

Nobody is surprised that the ex pm might be thought corrupt. He's long fended off credible accusations of pocketing brown envelopes. The surprise is that he has been nobbled - and then denied bail. His lawyer was outraged at the judge's ruling - at least for benefit of the media. The week's events may restore some confidence in a sceptical public who have witnessed a spate of high-level financial malpractice.

Tuesday we went up to Benafim to pay for the latest delivery of sand to the bottom of our driveway - with a view to continuing our stone wall build at the weekend.

The suppliers, Quim Quim (pronounced Kim Kim), know me well by this time. I have only to pick up the phone and mention Valapena to be sure that I'll find the sand, cement, gravel or whatever in place within a few hours.

It's very handy. They're happy to take payment in cash a day or two later or by bank transfer.

The latter is now our principal method of settling debts (although many local people still trot along cash in hand to the pay-shop).

I hardly use cheques any longer. An issue of five lasts me the better part of a year.

May called in the evening to say that her electricity was still tripping in spite of the higher potential that the EDP was now allowing her. We promised to look into it the following day.

At May's house on Wednesday I turned on both lounge heaters and a couple of kitchen appliances to see whether the electricity tripped under the load. It did.

So I phoned the EDP again to ask them to raise May's potential yet again - something they should do next week.

Meanwhile we have once more turned off the big pool pump.

We lunched with May at a snack-bar we have come to like. May insisted to me that she wanted to pay (we take it in turns).

I left first to snooze in the car, as I usually do. May and Jones followed. The waitress, a delightful young lady, came running out after them to say that the bill had yet to be settled.

Jones was under the impression that I had already paid and May had clearly forgotten her intentions. No harm done!

THE HEAD TORCH (BELOW) IS IN PREPARATION FOR THE NEXT STORM-INDUCED BLACK-OUT

That evening it poured down. Radio and TV reception failed. I blamed the weather. But Marie, who shares the same "backdoor access" to UK channels, correctly suspected that the encryption had been changed. It had! I received the new code from the supplier in time to enter it in the digibox for the 10pm news.

Thursday morning I got a series of email warnings from the weather bureau about a severe storm due to hit us overnight. Certainly the radar picture showed as deep a depression offshore as I've seen. With a view to scattering fertilizer granules around our carob trees before the rain arrived, I took the tractor into town. Quim Quim loaded it with fertilizer and cement.

As soon as I got back, I slit open the bags of fertilizer and we started scattering it under the carob trees. I gave the fruit trees and nut trees a few handfuls as well.

The trees reward us for our efforts. The new carob crop already hangs green and heavy from the branches along with the remnants of the old.

And the almond trees, which used to bloom in January, are already coming into blossom. Times are a changing.