Friday morning: It's raining gently. The world beyond the windows is outlined in shades of grey. For once the dogs are not bothering us to get dressed and go walking. Indeed, four of them are still half asleep on the bed where they sought comfort during the black-out last night.
Shortly, I shall revive the fire that sustained us as we passed the evening in the lounge, wondering when we'd get power back. (It rarely fails these days and, unlike our South African brethren, we are not accustomed to black-outs.) Every so often the lights would flicker and the house electronics squeak as the EDP's technicians worked to reconnect us.
We were grateful for the wifi hotspot that enabled us at least to listen to the radio on my iPad. I don't make much use of the device for the 7 euros a month that Vodafone charges me but it's worth every cent on stormy nights when the world turns black.
Since last week's blog October has morphed silently into November. The clocks have gone back and the evenings have drawn in. The first two days of the month celebrated the feasts of All Saints and All Souls. I note from Wikipedia that "Christian celebration of All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day stems from a belief that there is a powerful spiritual bond between those in heaven (the "Church triumphant"), and the living (the "Church militant").
Whatever the case, All Saints is a national holiday on which many Portuguese tidy up and lay flowers on family graves. This flower seller was doing good business outside Alte cemetery this morning as I passed by en route to a session with Jodi.
On Barbara's behalf I have downloaded to my phone an app called FlowerChecker that Marie brought to our attention. (www.flowerchecker.com) Via the app, for a small sum, one can photograph any plant or flower and submit it to experts for identification. The experts are real people, not computers, who guarantee to give one an answer within 24 hours. In the two submissions we made, they proved timely and correct on both scores although they were uncertain about the first.
OLIVES THAT BARBARA HAS PICKED AND IS SALTINGIf you should wonder why Barbara didn't download the app to her own phone, it's because mine has a far better camera. At my insistence she carries a smart-phone for more versatile communications; at her insistence, she has the cheapest model available. I have several times offered to get her a decent one - an offer that she resists for fear that it might join several chewed-up previous models on the scrap heap. Some of our neighbours can still be seen wielding the old Nokias that once ruled the world but Portuguese youth would hardly recognise them.
TRYING TO WASH A RELUCTANT RUSS'S MUDDY PAWSIn the background, as I write, there's yet another radio discussion of the latest developments in the US presidential race. I don't expect to get much sleep on Tuesday night. While neither of us is exactly enthused about Hillary, we are both appalled at the prospect of a Trump victory.
On the other hand we both cheered at the UK high court ruling yesterday that parliament - rather than the government - had to approve the country's exit from the EU. The financial markets welcomed it too because the pound immediately strengthened (although not very much). However, the Brexit zealots were enraged, hurling abuse and invective at the judges who had shown the temerity to interpret the law unfavourably to their cause. I don't often take pleasure in other people's frustration but Thursday was an exception. Schadenfreude has a sweet taste .
Wednesday brought another 90 minute session at the dentist as he completed the root-canal treatment he set about last week. It was a tough one that left me flat the next day. I have (what I sincerely hope is) a final appointment this coming week to fit a new crown. There are times when I wonder whether I can avoid any more dentist's appointments in the years ahead (presuming on such!). Of course this prompts a question: just how soon does one plan to die or for how long is one prepared to suffer toothache.
Natasha spent much of last weekend at an international gymnastic competition held in Loule's impressive pavilion. We watched something of the live feed although we didn't see young Alex competing. Natasha was pleased to inform us that Alex had been placed 6th (out of 20 plus) in the individual competition and that his group had been awarded 4th place overall.
Fintan returned for another hour of cutting fire-wood from the boughs piled up on our top field. The heap, one of several, is the fruit of the pruning exercise we carried out on the almond trees last winter. Fintan grasps the branches with the ends just over the rim of the tractor box while I slice off sections as required. (The side of the tractor box separates my blade from his hands.)
Before we began, I changed the chain (which I'll take up to Helio for sharpening). The bandage on my thumb bears witness to the razor sharpness of new chain blades. They are not forgiving of clumsy handling. Also, as I learned last time round, the saw works better when one puts the chain on with the teeth pointing in the right direction.
The garden - returning to the rain - has welcomed the recent wetness with explosive growth. It's as though the trees and shrubs have taken a deep breath of autumn air. The little (supposedly) anti-fly plants that Jones sticks into spare corners are suddenly colonising our paths and steps. One has to walk around them, ducking under the long branches that the shrubs are enthusiastically stretching out. As we took the dogs on a damp tour of Slavic's steppes (the concrete pedestrian circuit through the park) I reflected on how lucky we have been to chance across this corner of Portugal. Nowhere is perfect but Valapena comes pretty close. Now, it remains only to register Casa Nada!
DOWNTOWN ESPARGAL IN THE RAIN
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