Letter from Espargal: 27 March 2015

This is a short, standing blog. Standing blogs, unlike standing orders and a bit like standing stones, actually involve standing, a stance that I find does nothing for either incentive or inspiration.

As you may gather, I am still suffering from sciatica. This, for any readers lucky enough never to have experienced it, is a bit like fighting a tug of war with a demon for possession of one's leg - one or other of them. At least I'm still managing a twice-daily walk.

I have embarked on scans and consultations - of which enough for now!

Last Saturday we travelled five minutes down the road to the village of Nave do Barao for a presentation of Algarvian wines. Two euros bought visitors a glass and the freedom to taste any of the wines on offer.

These included several from the estate owned by Cliff Richard, a label that came with a premium that I thought undeserved.

We came away with several bottles from local estates that will serve us well. I should add that the Algarve is not a region of Portugal that has been traditionally associated with serious viticulture.

We also watched a film, The 100-foot Journey, a feel-good "comedy" that was so determinedly feel-good and predictable as to be slightly depressing. Nay, I exaggerate. It was okay.

Apropos of nothing, I note that the second woman bishop chosen by the Church of England, Canon Alison White, is herself married to a man bishop.

One wonders what they talk about over breakfast. And how do their children feel about being the offspring of two bishops? To be the offspring of one bishop may be considered unfortunate; to be the offspring of two starts to sound incestuous.

All we need now is a transgender bishop and a cross-dressing bishop and everyone will be well served.

Monday's achievement - since repeated - was to take both our dogs and the orphans on a harmonious joint walk, with just a little "what are they doing here?" from the regulars. The orphans squeak and squeal as they chase shadows merrily through the bushes, almost like three little fish darting through the water.

They are such a joyful trio when at liberty that their happiness is infectious. Paleface came back from one excursion covered in ticks, most of which he allowed Jones to remove. We have since bought insect repellent drops and are considering how best to administer them. The little beasts refuse to wear collars.

We continue to let the orphans out twice a day in the hope that they will return for their food in short measure. Barbara goes out to open the gate of the pen at 7.30, when they start squealing. In theory she shuts them in again a couple of hours later when she feeds them - with a similar story in the afternoon.

Half the time one or more are late to return and she agonizes over their fate. I tell her that we lock them in for our sake and let them out for theirs.

They certainly get around. All the village has got to know them.

Tuesday's air-crash and Thursday's news conference about the likely cause came as a huge shock. It felt close to home. My heart goes out to the families of the victims.

Jones has made another batch of lemon marmalade - her third in about as many days. In spite of her doubts, it's just as good as the first two, which is very good indeed.

Even better news, the peony that she has been nursing these three years past has put up this beautiful flower. And while her garden is awash with flowers of every kind and colour, none gives her more pleasure than this one.

The clocks go forward this weekend!