Letter from Espargal: 7 August 2015

One of my more profound insights is that you have to create your own paradise and that it's hard work. For those lucky or enterprising enough to contemplate such a possibility, paradise doesn't come naturally. It takes a lot of effort. Relax for a moment and the second law of thermodynamics leaps into action. Entropy has a field day.

Other people's paradises are all very well but enjoy them as you may, you're just a visitor. To call a paradise your own you have to sweat - and we do. (These are mundane conclusions that don't necessarily apply to matters celestial.)

DRAWING STRAWS FOR A PLACE ON THE BED

This is an insight that I share with Barbara, generally after she returns "glowing" and dusty from repairs to a dog-demolished flower bed.

When we sit down at sunset on the north patio and take in our vista, glass in hand (fizzy water please), with the temperature dropping to comfortable, Valapena really does seem pretty close to paradise.

I guess the paradox is that we wouldn't really appreciate it if we hadn't laboured to create it.

Enough of such profundity. Last Friday early Paula (from the bottom of the village) arrived at the gates with the picture-clock that Barbara had engaged her to make after seeing her display at Loule fair. We were both very pleased with it and lost no time in affixing it to the hall wall. It has also impressed neighbours who have expressed an interest in getting her to do the same for them.

Paula has a word for her art-form which I didn't catch; it is a variety of pyrography - burning designs on to wood. However she goes about it, the end result is delicate and the images taken from photographs are remarkably accurate.

GINGER VAGUELY VISIBLE THROUGH THE LEAVES

We now visit May's house two or three times a week (depending) to renew Ginger's food; from there last Friday we continued to Loule to consult Mr Irani, the optician. For once, we found him without a client. Mr Irani is an Iranian who trained in Germany. We communicate in gesture-rich Portuguese, which serves well enough.

We were both in need of his services. Barbara had scratches on her lenses. My dark glasses required a new frame. Mr Irani was unable to remove the scratches, which was actually a good thing as my wife really needed a new prescription.

COURTESY OF MIKE AND LIZ BROWN

She hovered between two suitable frames, favouring the lighter-coloured one but dubiously accepting our joint advice that the darker one suited her better.

My intention had been to employ Slavic and Andrei Saturday morning to lay a concrete floor in the nook where I keep the concrete mixer. Since I'd forgotten to order gravel, I had to make other plans. Not that it was difficult. There's never a shortage of jobs to be done.

In the end we accomplished a lot. While Andrei spent the morning strimming in the park, Slavic and I set about more cobble paving and the retouching of damp-damaged bedroom walls.

In spite of the trouble that the builder took to render the roof damp-proof, there's a spot somewhere that the water creeps in after a heavy downpour. I cured a leaky roof problem in Casa Nada by applying a rubberised paint product, recommended by the local builder. I shall attempt the same on the tiles at the top of the roof.

Sunday evening we joined neighbours at Benafim's festa in the grounds of the community centre at the top of the town. It's a family-oriented get-together with folk music, dancing, and chicken bbqs. Everybody goes. One lines up at the cashiers to buy tickets for whatever one wants from the menu pinned to the wall. This is simple but adequate.

Although beer and wine flow freely, there's no unruly behaviour. An accordionist or guitarist entertains the crowd with nostalgic ballads. Anyone familiar with braaivleis, "stywe pap" and "boere musiek" would feel instantly at home.

BARBARA AND HER ROCK

Some weeks ago on our morning walk Barbara spotted a rock that she fancied lying in the veld - the "mato" as they call it here. So she started lugging it home 20 metres at a time.

It was (is) quite a big rock, somewhat resistant to being picked up, as I can attest; my offers to assist her with it were declined in the light of my curmudgeonly back.

When the rock eventually reached the park fence I took the tractor up to fetch it. Jones has since arranged it beside a pot outside Casa Nada.

BACK FROM THE MORNING WALK

I have my eye on a similarly artistic rock that the scarifier has unearthed in the park. I could probably stagger back to the house with it up the Roman road (our name for the gravel track leading from the garden to the park).

But the chances are that I'd slip on the gravel or put my back out again. So it awaits the tractor's next visit to the park. If you're into rocks, you can't do better than look around Espargal. The village squats not on rocky soil but on thinly earthed rock.

Barbara has spent much of her week cleaning the bases of the spiky yucccas and the aloes that we have growing all over the property. This involves cutting off the lower leaves of the yuccas and crushing the dead growth that dangles like a bushy beard from the aloes' upper regions. It involves a lot of bending, crouching and other gymnastics that I don't go in for although I do remove the more dangerous leaves, the ones that poke out over the paths at eye level.

I have also, together with my wife, begun picking up carobs. Although this year's crop is thin as a result of the dry winter, we have several dozen trees to pick at an optimistic rate of a tree a day - and that's before we start on the almonds.

During my idle moments I have been working my way slowly through the Freecell games on my iPad, starting at number 1. I'm past 500 and counting, with only another million or so to go.

They are games of strategy rather than luck. I tell myself that they will stave off dementia for a year or two. The easiest can be completed in under two minutes. Three to five minutes is more common. The more difficult can easily take an hour.

According to experts online a number of the games are completely insoluble. I haven't yet come across one of those.

Thursday: I am receiving repeated email warnings from the weather bureau that Friday and Saturday are going to be wickedly hot.

I am hoping nonetheless to get some concreting done on Saturday morning with the lads.

I shall suggest an early start.