What has stuck with me all this week has been a vision of the English bride who was waiting last Saturday for the chauffer-driven Daimler due to take her to the church. The car never arrived. One can only imagine her frustration and disappointment as her family made last-minute arrangements to save the day.
As she would have learned later, the limousine's elderly driver-owner and his precious car were among those obliterated by a doomed Hawker Hunter jet performing at an air show. What a way to go!
I was ready for them on the tractor when they arrived just after seven - the best time to get underway in the summer heat. Afternoon temps are still in the low 30s.
The pair of them started out on the roof, giving the uppermost rows of tiles a second coat of the flexible impermeable paint that I hope will put an end to occasional drips in the study during the downpours that winter usually brings.
She fears that it's being starved of water. To remedy this I've bought another small immersion pump that I've placed in the filtered fossa, attached to a length of hose that reaches the extremities of the lower garden. We've been feeding the tree generous amounts of naturally enriched water. Fingers crossed!
The little they have to say to each other is in Ukrainian of which Jones and I are as ignorant as they are of English, although they speak pretty fluent Portuguese - the language in which we communicate.
Not that we waste energy on words unless there's something to be said, at least not until we sit down on the patio when the work is done to quaff a beer and reflect on the nature of things.
Jones and I searched my clothes, the house and the car - to no avail. Finally, reluctantly, I phoned the bank to cancel the card and request a replacement. I half expected the missing card to turn up shortly afterwards but it hasn't - not yet. Nor has the promised replacement.
We needed a wodge of cash on Tuesday morning when the firewood delivery truck rolled up with our winter supply. The wood is excellent - hard wood from the rolling Alentejo forests.
The only paperwork involved in the deal takes the form of euro notes, quite a lot of them, but then it's a lot of wood - three tons of it - enough to see us through the winter with some to spare.
Still on firewood - the driver and his mate raise the back of the truck to gravity-feed the wood down towards the tailgate and then set about transferring it a wheelbarrow at a time to the wood-store a few metres away.
It's hard work that requires care; the splinters can be nasty. I gave them each a pair of leather gloves to save their hands. The workers glistened a muscular bronze as they laboured bare-chested in the morning sunshine.
The new login that he'd set up proved to be quick and easy, a great improvement on the previous more secure but less user-friendly approach.
I didn't think that excessive security was a priority at the community centre where the facility will benefit mainly the staff - most of them kitchen and laundry workers using smart phones to access Facebook.
We've made a couple of visits to Nadia, the Russian seamstress, in Loule, of whose services we make great use. Among other things she's sewn pockets on to two attractive white shirts of mine - both gifts - that lacked them.
Jones has encouraged me to wear the shirts as they're really special; I've been reluctant, only because my mobile phone lives like a kangaroo's joey in my shirt pocket and I feel ill at ease when the pocket is missing.
We had planned to meet him at a mid-point snackbar - until he phoned to say that his aunt's car had overheated as he was leaving the nursing home. He had to get a lift home with May's Man Friday.
The problem, a faulty washer that spilled the radiator water, was swiftly repaired and the car returned to him the following day.
Most of the crop has fallen already. Those carobs that remain I whack down with a long, slender stick. I think we're about half way through the harvest.
Generous bunches dangled invitingly, high among the branches of an extensive old vine that covers half the garden, supporting itself on a pergola.
They were not easy to disentangle and retrieve as one reached up into the knot of branches, not without losing numerous grapes in the process. It would not be hard to imagine Bacchus peering down at the picker.
We have since shared the bounty with neighbours. They are the most delicious grapes; Leonilde tells me that they are an old and now rare variety known as coração-de-galo - heart of the cockerel. We regret only that their owners - back in the UK - are not present to enjoy them. Jones has also been raiding local plum trees, stewing the fruit which, with yoghurt and melon, makes an excellent lunch.
Friday 01.00: While we were at supper with neighbours last night, Ono - our old dog - seemed to suffer some kind of stroke in the car. He had difficulty walking. Jonesy has settled down with him for the night in the living room. We will have to see what dawn brings.
Friday: 09.00: Ono appears much improved. He joined us on a short walk. Still slow and dopey but not staggering any longer. We'll see!
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