Monday's lesson was even more confused than usual. Canadas was summoned out of the classroom several times by the secretary to countersign urgent cheques while Carlos photocopied the wrong text, causing enormous puzzlement among those pupils who tried to find the correct place. Helena disputed the birthrate figures for Portugal until we ascertained that she was used to counting average children per woman while the scale used in the lesson was per thousand inhabitants.
However one counts them, they're ominously low - as are Germany's and Italy's. Portugal is interested in attracting suitable immigrants although it's grateful not to have to cope with the boat people washing up on Mediterranean shores.
A friend who's applying for Portuguese citizenship told me after attending the language entry exam that most of the candidates present were from eastern Europe. Before they left the hall, a government official checked that those writing the exam were the genuine applicants and not their more fluent friends.
The lesson concluded with the presentation by Canadas to me of a bottle of precious Dona Antonia white port, with card, to thank me for my efforts, never mind that I have been more absent than present this past term.
Thus endeth Monday's lessons - until October or thereabouts.
Canadas responded that she could not have arrived in better company, however brief her stay.
I have declined to attend the university's annual end-of-year banquet on the grounds that I'm still not sitting down, which is partly true.
May was slower and frailer (?) than usual, needing a lot of support to get in and out of the car and complaining of her pains.
She hurt all over, she said. I knew the feeling I responded.
Her great battle in life, octogenarian frailties apart, is with her television (by internet).
At the best of times this requires nudges and prompts of a kind foreign to May's experience. At the worst of times, it simply offers her a blank screen.
And since her TV is her company, the interruptions cause her a lot of distress. It would be easy to put in a stable, reliable system but not one with channels that interest May.
Tuesday Jones and I light-lunched at the Hamburgo before my physio session with Jodi, leaving the house to Natasha. There were lots of cyclists on the road. I give them a wide berth, still grateful to those London motorists who afforded me the same.
The circuit through Benafim and Alte is popular with the cycling fraternity (sorority?). Now that it's been resurfaced it's additionally attractive - ditto with the motorcyclists who whiz (or thunder - Harley Davidsons) past the Hamburgo.
No doubt that women have historically got the rough end of the gender pineapple - and still do in many cultures - but my eyes glaze over at the endless bleating about skirts on company boards and in parliament - and suckling infants in public. There is certainly nothing remotely oppressed about the females in my life - whether neighbours, lawyer, notary, physiotherapist, pharmacist or surgeon.
It's hot. Wednesday we cut short our morning walk as the beasts were pausing in the shade with little enthusiasm for further exercise. The orphans followed us into the park and insisted on their share of the treats that always conclude an outing.
Paleface prefers to hover outside the pen. He still has an uneasy relationship with our male dogs. The girls are part of the gang. We keep an eye on Mello as she's a shoe-thief. We had to bribe her with a chewy to recover a Jones shoe that she (Mello) was making off with (below).
The couple were both in their 90s. He still tended his garden and drove his equally ancient tractor although only to his plot at the other end of the village. A few weeks ago, they were retired to a home. He died days later. Local people shrug when you ask them what of. Seems he had no further interest in life.
Thursday morning: Jones, who was walking ahead with Poppy, yelled that I should take the route beside the fence and avoid the path through the park.
I gathered minutes later that Poppy had encountered a snake there. Rather than fleeing the scene our little guest dog had seized the serpent with mongoosian agility and begun flinging it in the air.
Jones shrieked at her with such force that her throat hurt her afterwards, more out of fear for Poppy than the snake.
Thursday afternoon: Our turn around the park reveals the remains of Poppy's snake. Here Raymond sniffs at it suspiciously before I turf it over the fence.
Jones regretted that the snake had expired.
I reassured her that there are many more where it came from.
We have certainly seen our fair share of them these past few days.
We were most impressed by his efforts. The living room was once their occasional mini-restaurant.
Idalecio had knocked through, both to a new bathroom and patio and also to a basement level below where the bedroom is now located.
The patio offers superb views and total privacy.
Llewellyn and Lucia (plus dogs) will be staying in one of his cottages when they arrive here late Friday.
They've been motoring down from London with stops in Bordeaux and Madrid.
We've been following their progress - with frequent pictures of them relaxing along the route.
SICK AND TIRED OF DOGS? TELL US ABOUT IT!
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