We don't get many visitors to Valapena and, without trying to sound unsociable, we quite like it that way. Our relative solitude comes with living at the far end of a steep, narrow dead-end rural road. The occasional neighbour or stray pops by - generally to a canine clamour - and, most days, that's about it.
CAMOUFLAGED GOAT IN THE PEN
But last Friday wasn't most days. Nelson and I were forking yet another load of weeds on to the tractor when we looked up to see a kid ambling down the track. The dogs were as taken aback as we were and loudly advised the little animal to make itself scarce. The goat, seemingly used to people and dogs, wasn't too put out. It made its way through the tractor doors into Casa Nada where it paused to peer intently at its image in the mirror on the washroom door. There Nelson was able to grab it and carry it across to the orphans' overgrown former pen where we enclosed it while we sought its owner.
ALLIUM DELL ON OUR MORNING ROUTE
In this inquiry we had no luck in spite of much phoning and riding around on the tractor to local hamlets. Finally Claudia and her son Marco, who keep goats in a vacant yard on the village square, agreed to take it. With Nelson holding it firmly on the back of the tractor, we delivered it to the yard where Marco - a strapping young lad - lifted it over the fence into one of the goat pens. Much to my regret, I was so caught up in events that I failed to take any pictures of the occasion.
Slavic and Andre were back at the weekend to complete the retaining wall above the new carport and to enclose the flowerbed at the bottom. Nelson and I had supplied them in advance with an adequate selection of rocks. As usual, they did a fine job. We have a lot of walls here at Valapena. I am very fond of them, practical and attractive as they are. If we didn't have them, we'd spend a lot of time tumbling down the steep hillside which the house grasps. I reflect as I watch my wall builders in action that the walls themselves will long outlast us all.
I did a bit of building myself. The site was our bottom gate, one that gives us access to the twisty contour path that runs east to the dirt road a kilometre away. The gate sits above a steep bank that smaller and older dogs - and occasionally their master - have found increasing difficulty in ascending. I tried for a while to remedy matters by stationing myself at the bottom of the bank to assist Ono - nearly 17 - who tends to fall back. However, as he sometimes reached the gate ahead of me, this proved to be an intermittent solution at best.
UP WE GO
The permanent solution was to obtain two large even rocks with which to improve the rough stone ascent. This Nelson and I did at Joachim Sousa's rubble mountain, ferrying them home on the tractor and tipping them down the bank before heaving and finally cementing them into place. The dogs now sail nonchalantly up the steps and even I manage them with a semblance of graceful ease - or that easeful grace?
RUSS AT EASE - LEFT
One of our dogs, Russ, has run into another bout of eczema, a summer hazard. The ailment is located right up under the "armpit" where Jones noticed it only when the dog lay down on his back, she says, as if to draw the problem to her attention. To remedy matters, the vet has prescribed various pills, creams and cleansers. The pills are easily disguised in a spoonful of pâté. Treating the dog with the applications is rather more demanding even though he's the most obliging of pets.
One of the problems is Russ's weight. He's a big boy, just on 35 kilos. We know he ought to lose weight; the vet urged us to do something about it. But Russ lives for food. It's his thing. He can hear the rustle of a treat packet from the bottom of the garden. He gollops down his meals in a jiffy and is pleased to finish off his companions'.
Two more little strays have arrived in the village. We see them occasionally on the roadside or playing with Bernardo, the son of Vitor and Ana. It would be lovely if they were able to adopt them.
One evening the Espargal expats gathered at David and Sarah's cottage for a meal - a most excellent repast as it proved. Over dessert David revealed that the occasion was a celebration to mark the award to his wife of the British Empire Medal in the Queen's birthday honours list for services to conservation and heritage.
OLD ESPARGAL
The couple are both are active in running a heritage centre in East Cowes on the Isle of Wight. Although Sarah was excessively modest about receiving this distinction, waving away compliments like unwelcome callers, her smile said a lot. I am reminded of Prickles who feigns indifference to treats that we leave at his nose but whose wagging tail indicates his true feelings.
This week the temperatures dropped and the north wind blew in. It howled around the house almost without pause like the banshee seeking the soul of Faust. Although one can find relief from the heat there is no escaping the wind. It spooks the dogs, shakes the shutters and gleefully snatches off a careless hat. In spite of Dinis's assurances about the strength of the carport, I kept an anxious eye on the structure lest the wind should test it beyond the endurance he promised. So far, so good.
I ordered and we watched the movie, The Big Short. I was disappointed. Unless one was au fait with developments, which I was, it was impossible to follow - and not easy even then. In between strimmings - of which I have been doing a great deal - I have been watching football, quite a lot of football. My team, Portugal, will need to improve a great deal if it is to proceed.
This time next week we'll know whether it's BREXIT or BREMAIN. Scary!
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