Friday: I know that we have done many things this past week although few of them come to mind. One exception is the lunch on Tuesday in memory of May Bunch. It was hosted by her nephew, Ken - down from Edinburgh - at Campina, the restaurant where we lunched with her so often, generally out on the patio with the dogs at our feet.
IN BETTER DAYSMay was particularly fond of grilled turkey steaks, which the staff cut into small pieces for her, and lots of carrots. A glass of wine was a must. She was a slow and spare eater who never actually finished her meal but enjoyed the outing at least as much as the food.
Campina has a little-used mezzanine floor where the staff arranged tables for 25 of her family, friends and supporters - both British and Portuguese - to come together for the occasion. Jones took flowers. The meal, with a choice of dishes, had been arranged and invitations issued some time earlier - a process that took a surprising amount of organising. It went well. RIP May; we hope you're now in a better world.
Speaking of which, I have spent hours in a lengthy exchange of emails with a group of ex-monk correspondents. Most are now grandfathers in Australia, where we trained in the early 60s, with a remnant in South Africa. We have evolved into a mix of constant Christians, agnostics and atheists (including a communist leader). The exchanges can be quite forthright although they tend towards the nostalgic and often witty as we discuss issues and recall our monastic years. As one correspondent pondered: Did Adam and Eve have belly buttons? It's a great question.
THE SISTERS ON SENTRY DUTY
One morning I led three of Idalecio's guests to Benafim and then took them on in our car to Salir, an Arab fortress town located on a hill some miles away. They were ladies, all sixty plus, whom we had met earlier as they passed our gate to the usual canine chorus. Two were German and one Irish. Barbara surmised that they were nuns although we'll never know.
THE HILLSIDE UP TO THE TELEF POST
Anyhow, they were keen hikers and anxious to walk the section of the Via Algarviana trail from Salir to Benafim - which they did. We bumped into them a few times and chatted to them about places to go and things to do. They didn't enjoy the best of weather. We've had late rains. My workers have missed the last two Saturdays.
My English lesson concerned the Panama Papers and a prominent Portuguese businessman who features in them, a gentleman - like most - who has proved reluctant to comment on his investments. We are promised the names of many more in due course. Portugal is still coping with a tough austerity programme affecting the great majority of its citizens, although clearly not all. It is also counting the cost of painful banking collapses, the instigators of which are the subject of inquiries. These inquiries, while inconvenient, seem hardly to have disturbed the comfortable lifestyles of those concerned.
Allow for some hours' interruption at this point while I visited my bank to follow up payments on my Portuguese credit card that I couldn't account for. Turns out that someone twice used my credentials to put €30 on to a mobile phone in France. As I shelter behind formidable computer security and rarely use the card, I cannot think how the thief obtained my details. The card is now cancelled; insurance will cover the losses and I have set about changing passwords to any site where the card was registered.
LIMADORE ORCHID
We have twice dined with UK-based friends, Mike and Lyn, who were telling us about members of their family who also recently lost money to credit card fraud. The couple are staying at a rental villa nearby. They are frequent visitors to Portugal and enviously knowledgeable about its fauna and flora, especially its birds and orchids.
LIMADORE CLOSE-UP (PICS FROM LYN)
They were celebrating the discovery of a rare violet limadore orchid on one of their walks. It's a most beautiful plant, not one that we have ever come across on our rambles. Lyn, like Mike a keen photographer, had taken impressive shots of it on her iPhone.
Barbara continues to work vigorously in her garden, tackling the invasive army of assorted weeds that share our property with the wild flowers we so value. She is anxious, apart from anything else, to have the garden looking good for the arrival of her brother, Robbie and wife Carol, in a couple of weeks' time. The area immediately around the house is looking good. Beyond that a knee-high savannah stretches away under carobs and almond trees to the fence.
FAVA PLANTS INTERSPERSED WITH POPPIES
Kindly neighbours have brought us bags of fava beans and peas as gifts. The former are sown by most of the locals and much enjoyed, generally as part of a pork dish. We have followed suit most years although our fava plants never compare with the handsome specimens in neighbouring fields. Last year we failed to do so and regretted it.
It took me hours to shell the beans we received. Jones boils them lightly and then freezes them. I love them.
PRICKLES AT HIS MOST FETCHING
One of the neighbours pointed out during a visit that the left brake light on my car had failed. I didn't have a spare bulb but Vitor the mechanic had several and was pleased to replace the dud when I dropped into the garage where he works. It's a small, informal outfit comprising just Vitor and the boss. There's no nonsense about clients staying out from the workshop.
THE WIDENED TRACK BETWEEN OUR FIELDS (LEFT) AND OUR FENCED PROPERTY (RIGHT)
Vitor is a most useful and obliging fellow. I was able to return the favour shortly afterwards when an English driver arrived at the workshop with a faulty alternator. Although both of them recognised the problem, they had no common language to discuss it. Vitor called me at home to act as an interpreter - not for the first time. English didn't feature in the syllabus when he was at school; in fact few children of his generation progressed beyond junior school. Now English is an essential part of both education and the tourist economy. The kids pick it up equally from TV and cinema.
Many of the older Portuguese residents have French as a second language, having spent much of their working lives in France. There's an invasion of French cars each summer as their descendants return briefly to catch up with their extended Portuguese families and properties.
SISTERS IN ARMS
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