In my English class on Monday we talked about Portugal's black economy, estimated at 28% of GDP. To begin we made a list of situations where people were likely to pay cash. And then we reflected on how often in such circumstances we ourselves had asked for invoices. Saints among us there was none. When VAT makes up nearly a quarter of the cost, there's a powerful human impulse to avoid it - all the more so where substantial purchases are concerned.
On Tuesday I finished ploughing the fields with a scarifier - a light, toothed plough. When thus engaged I endeavour to leave neat parallel lines across the earth, as much for my own artistic satisfaction as to impress my tractor-owning neighbours. However, the steep slopes, rocks and trees on our property combine like defensive football backs to frustrate my designs. The result resembles agricultural crazy paving.
On Wednesday, Ono and Prickles accompanied me into Jodi's rooms as it was too hot to leave them in the car. Prickles camped underneath her treatment table, insisting that I scratch his head while Jodi worked on my back. My task that day was to spray the prickly weed clumps along our borders with Roundup. I dislike Roundup - whatever its ecological pretensions - but not as much as I dislike pricklies. Given half a chance, they erect a formidable semi-impenetrable barrier and throttle any trees where they get a grip.
We are in the process of cancelling our landline (289-472248) as we use it less than pain-in-the-butt cold callers. We remain contactable at all (preferably convenient) times via our mobile phones - whether by email, message or voice. For longer conversations at home, we make use of a Skype phone. While we can also Skype from our iPads, neither of us is enthused about screen appearances.
Although the solstice looms, nobody has warned the Algarve weatherman that it's time to flick winter's switch. Day temps peak in the low 20s; nights dip into the low-teens. The occasional mosquito still whines around our heads. We learn that 15 of the 16 warmest years on record have taken place this century - although I doubt that the news has penetrated Trump tower.
The invasion of Christmas's dreaded ads and decorations is underway. Yuletide is not my favourite time of year. My intention is to dig a hole, climb into it and pull the lid over my head until I'm reassured that the last Christmas carol is played out. I cringe at the end-to-end Xmas carols that hypermarkets inflict on shoppers and wail when Joy to the World fills the loo. Jones used to enjoy Christmas until she met me. Sorry!
You may wonder from all this how Jones has been occupying herself this past week. Well, this is what she has been doing: gardening, salting olives, picking fruit, preparing meals, washing, mopping, removing dog-poos, ironing, visiting Portuguese neighbours, feeding stray animals, watching sunset from the hill summit, exhorting me to cut back on dog treats - and much more.
Yesterday we joined friends, Peter and Monique, for lunch at the Hamburgo before leading them home for a brief tour of Valapena and a walk to the summit. The couple are in the process of moving permanently to the Algarve - she Belgian and he British.
On our return from holiday in Madeira a month ago, Jones became aware that a favourite black velvet scarf had parted company with her. It was a garment of some nostalgic value that she'd inherited from May. She recalled having it at the airport hotel where we had spent our last night. But the hotel found no trace of it. So we contacted the Lost and Found office at Madeira airport which, after some delay, confirmed that it had been handed in there.
The office agreed to return it if we would foot the postage bill. When we asked how best to pay, the secretary responded with an email saying that the scarf was already in the post; she attached a copy of the parcel registration. Grateful for her efforts, I got hold of the flower shop at Madeira airport and arranged for a posy to be sent to the lady. She was delighted; the florist was pleased and we were contented. Not often that one gets three birds with one stone.
MOBILE PHONE PIC OF THE POSY FROM THE FLOWER SHOP
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