Our week began last Saturday when Slavic arrived minus Andre who, he said, had gone off to Spain. Jones and I had a goodly supply of rocks awaiting him and he made great progress with the wall - so much that he and I had to make three more trips to Joachim's carob plantation to top up supplies. It's the back-filling of the gap between the wall itself and the bank that eats up the rocks.
DIRTY AIR
Sunday dawned murky and stayed that way. The air appeared badly in need of a wash. We felt as though we were looking through a pane of dirty glass. At brunch we asked Nicoline - a retired meteorologist - whether it might be sand from the Sahara. She thought it might well be, carried in on the south wind. Later she sent us this satellite picture of the sand storm over Iberia.
We wondered how the jet engines of passing airliners might be affected. The phenomenon made for spectacular sun and moon effects - as you see. Monday continued murky. Tuesday dawned clear, as though nature had power-washed the muck back into the Atlantic.
SANDY SUNSET WITH FOLIAGE
The subject of my English class was "assisted dying", an issue that has been occupying Portugal's political parties - or, at least, distracting them from their interminable squabbles over the economy. Four European countries currently permit doctors to help terminally ill people die. Now an eclectic group of Portuguese citizens has suggested that their country follow suit. My pupils were in two minds about the wisdom of doing so, apart from Inacio (a great hunter of wild boar) who felt strongly that dying should be left to nature and not to doctors.
Monday evening the dogs got a double walk - the second one to find the mobile phone that had slipped out of Jones's pocket during the first. It was lying on the path, none the worse for wear, where Jones had picked up twigs for kindling. The dogs didn't complain. In fact, they romped around more joyfully the second time than the first.
On Tuesday Jones paid her monthly visit to a Portuguese neighbour who is virtually house-bound. Here Natasha helped me clean up the branches from pruned almond trees that litter our fields. We trimmed off the smaller branches and piled up the bigger ones, to be cut into firewood in due course. During a break I asked Natasha - as I do each week - whether her Portuguese citizenship had come through yet. She applied a year ago. Much to my surprise, she replied "yes". So now she's Portuguese as well as Russian. I would be tempted to apply for Portuguese citizenship myself if there were not so much bureaucracy involved.
I/we have watched some more films. I was disappointed by Mad Max: Fury Road. It had terrific visuals but no soul - just warring cowboys and Indians in the guise of motorised post-apocalyptic warriors. Jones gave it ten minutes before deciding that it wasn't her scene. The most diverting bit was Charlize Theron's prosthetic arm - not that anyone would have recognised Ms Theron. It was very well done - inevitably with computer magic. Google revealed all.
The pair of us sat down another night to a low budget local movie called The Right Juice (O Sonho Certo) - a story of an English expat whose endeavours to start a citrus farm in the Algarve run into a conspiracy by a mining company intent on buying up the land. It was of particular interest as it was set in familiar locations and one of our Espargalian neighbours played a leading part.
ALMOND BLOSSOM
We are depressed at the prospect of three months of interminable arguments over the pros and cons of the UK's exit from the EU - ahead of the "Brexit" referendum to be held in June. We shudder at the prospect of a yes vote. To our regret, neither of us will be able to vote. The overseas vote is restricted to expats who have lived in the UK within the past 15 years. We have been out for 18. (Can't believe it!)
JONES MOON
Meanwhile we see stricken sterling, our income source, slipping steadily south on the surrounding uncertainty; not that we expect much sympathy from family in South Africa or Canada (whose own currencies - for other reasons - have also nose-dived).
PENULTIMATE SANDY SUNSET
I have copied our library of 8,000 photos to our digital photo frame. They cover myriad memories, a 100 years, a score of countries, several seas and a lot of both joy and heart-sore.
There are now two strays camped at Alto Fica corner. Our animal expenditure has sky rocketed.
THAT'S ALL FOLKS
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