The hot season is now upon us. I have to change damp vests and shirts three times a day. The air-conditioner in the bedroom - the only unit we possess - has been set to cold air for two humans and two animals. No longer dare we park the car in the sun, not with the dogs inside. Before our morning walks, we smear on a generous layer of 50-strength sun cream. Soon a ring of satellite heat bumps will renew its summery orbit about my waist.
LATEST SATURDAY WALL BUILDING
The pests continue to pester - flies, mosquitoes and ticks. Most of the ticks we catch still crawling up our legs or clothes but the odd one gets through. Worse than the ticks themselves are the false positive tickles. I can't tell you how often I snatch off my shirt or drop my trousers to check whether the tickle is genuine or an impostor. Most are illusory but the price of ignoring a tick tickle is a bump that itches for ages.
In view of the heat we have invested in some expensive shade, about 30m2 of it. Dinis, the local metal man, has built us a carport just outside the side gates. He warned us when he undertook the work that he had a busy schedule and might not be able to complete it until late in June. In the event, one of his workers had a motorbike accident that has laid him off for a couple of months, forcing Dinis to concentrate on smaller jobs - such as ours.
Dinis is not cheap but he is meticulous. After the erection of the structure, his assistant resprayed paint blotches on the metal posts while Dinis used turps to remove minute paint stains from the overhead panels.
The new carport means that we don't need to bring the car into the gates to park in the shade - an event that tempts the orphans to go walk-about. I might add that Jones is not entirely persuaded about the wisdom of this particular investment. I'm hoping she will come to appreciate its value.
BEFORE STRIMMING
The parish strimmers have been busy in the village. Gone are the heavily overgrown verges that limited drivers' vision and dusted the sides of passing cars. In past years the cutting back has been done by a large tractor fitted with a brush cutter. This year the work has been carried out - slowly and carefully - by two workers with strimmers.
AFTER STRIMMING
After strimming the verges, they use backpack-powered blowers to gather the cuttings before they bin them. I've twice expressed our gratitude with cold refreshments - much appreciated in the afternoon heat.
Anybody familiar with Jane Austen's "Emma" will know how important it is to go to the assistance of a damsel in distress. Whether the peril is to her honour or her high heels, she has to be rescued by a knight - ideally young, wealthy, single and good-looking. (On second thoughts, the "single" bit isn't really important!)
OUR GREAT WALL AFTER CLEARING
This thought was vaguely in my mind over lunch on Monday at a restaurant in Loule when a strikingly tall and attractive young woman entered and took a seat opposite a fellow at a busy table. Over my fish salad I watched her in conversation with the chap, trying to gauge the relationship.
After some minutes, he, to make a point, threw out his arms in an expansive gesture that flung his beer into the damsel's open handbag on a chair beside her. The couple leapt up, scrabbling for serviettes. This gripping mini-drama was invisible to Barbara and our lunching friends. Grabbing the serviettes on our table, I discreetly offered them to the maiden, who rewarded me with a whispered "thank you" as she dabbed away. Who knows? I may have saved a romance from a damp conclusion.
As it happens, lunch had followed a fairly fraught morning. While once we took our dogs to the vet for their annual vaccinations, in recent times the vet has come to us. This reversal has saved on time and fuel but not on stress. Although our five regular beasts - plus Poppy, who is boarding with us - suffer their pricks with admirable resignation, the orphans will have nothing to do with the process. Last year, in anticipation, we dosed the little dogs with tranquiliser pills - to no obvious effect - and we failed to vaccinate them.
This year we doubled the dose and enclosed them on the back patio ahead of Carlos the vet's arrival. Although slightly dopey, the orphans were far from tranquil. Jones and I had to corner them and leap upon them one at a time to secure them long enough for Carlos to do his thing, a nerve-racking business. So it was with much relief and a deal of satisfaction that we managed to get the unwilling trio both vaccinated and dosed against ticks.
THE INOCULATED SISTERS
Another minor victory was to return to a supermarket to claim back 10 euros that it had charged me in error the previous day - twice billing me for a single bag of dog biscuits. It was a mistake that I noticed only while checking the bill later. I was well aware that supermarkets warn customers to go over their bills before they leave.
After hearing my story the manager took the slip from me, asked me to wait and disappeared into a back room. I surmised that he had gone to check the security video. After some minutes he reappeared with a form for me to sign and the 10 euros. I asked him whether he'd confirmed the error on the security tape but he replied that the shop couldn't afford one.
DEARHEART
(A moment's distraction there to rescue a mouse from the claws of Dearheart and fling it over the balcony into the garden. I read once that you can't injure a mouse by dropping it from the top of a skyscraper because of its high surface to mass ratio. The writer gave warning that the contrary holds true for elephants.)
WAITING THEIR TURN
Jones and I have both visited the optician, she to replace clouded lenses with new ones and I to replace a broken frame. The optician brought out three similar frames and asked me to choose one. Two were priced at around €90 (before a generous cash discount!). The third was much more expensive.
When I asked why, he explained that it was a Christian Dior frame - and that some clients liked to be seen sporting such fashionable brands. As you may imagine, I didn't see the point of trying to impress my fellow Espargalians with Mr Dior's monicker.
No comments:
Post a Comment