THE CORK WALK - IN THE VALLEY
As Christmas sweeps down on us, may I wish you, dear reader, every happiness this festive season. Our year is ending amidst warm, gentle days and chilly nights. Down in the valley, where it's several degrees colder, the mid-winter frost sometimes glitters on the green. All too soon the sun is turning north once again.
Apart from a few twinkling lights, there are few signs of celebration in the village. As a token of the season, a Christmas tree of sorts leans against the wall beside our front door - the branch of a fir that we pruned last weekend. Our plans are modest. We shall open a special bottle of wine and sit down to a festive meal. With luck the dogs will get an extended walk.
ON THE ROADThe beasts are not in best odour, having stolen and ripped to shreds yet another of Jones's beloved cushions. The main suspect is dear gentle Russ, who crawled nervously under the dining room table to avoid the worst of my wife's angry remonstrations.
Nine dogs was never part of the plan. It's just the way things worked out. We'd love to shut the doors from time to time and explore the world. Still, we wouldn't change things even though, like the old lady who lived in a shoe, we sometimes feel a bit overrun.
GETTING TO KNOW YOU
Thank you to the kind people who have sent us Christmas cards, a tradition in which I fail utterly and even Jones has fallen behind. I hope that the blog serves in some part to compensate for our neglect.
A few tokens apart, we have not purchased any gifts; (Jones receives an occasional surprise gift out of season). Her duties (self-imposed) have included visits to her Portuguese old ladies, who welcome the company. It's a kindness that tests her nerves and linguistic skills. We have taken small parcels up to the women who run the parish offices - and we've remembered our dog charities. That's it.
One evening, uninspired by wall to wall festive TV specials, we put on a DVD that has been waiting several months in the rack - The Martian, starring Matt Damon. I half expected a science fiction remake of Cast Away (Tom Hanks as Robinson Crusoe). But what riveting stuff it proved to be. Jones, whose inclination to nod off in front of the box is rivalled only by my own, stayed glued to it long after her bedtime.
Another evening we watched a documentary on the construction and subsequent sliding of a giant (36,000 ton) metal arch over the damaged reactor at Chernobyl. The vast multi-national project was completed only last month. Planning alone took over a decade and the construction seven years. The cover, looking like a giant aircraft hangar, has been designed to withstand climatic extremes and provide protection while the site is cleaned up.
These days most of our movies come from Amazon. There was a period when we would join neighbours at the cinema in Faro but, to Jones's disappointment, I was driven to distraction by mobile-phone users. Sadly, the same has proved true for classical concerts at which audience members feel free to browse or text. I appealed to the management of the Algarve orchestra to put a stop to it - in vain. So we gave up. We both listen, albeit mainly in the car, to a superb Portuguese classical music station, Antena 2.
SUNLIT ROSEMARY
The BBC still anchors our current affairs interests although we follow local radio & TV as well two local English-language newspapers that plunder the national media for much of their content. They're worth glancing through to stay up with events, however quaintly reported. Recently we became aware of an online news site (Algarvedailynews). It's good - although the many reports of corruption and human frailty are a bit depressing. What's new?
THERE'S NOTHING LIKE A CHEERY FIRE
Last Thursday for no particular reason I developed an unhappy tooth. Drinking anything hot or cold or biting on the tooth made me unhappy too. The dentist was able to squeeze me in early on Friday before closing for Christmas. Two-and-a-half hours and several hundred euros later, I emerged a little dazed from his surgery. It was my second root-canal episode in as many months. Ouch on all fronts - and ouch again!
THE UPPER LEFT WALL STRIPPED
My task of the week has been to launch a frontal attack on the ivy that has been steadily overtaking the cisterna and surrounding garden. While it served to obscure the high front wall, the ivy's been acceptable - even attractive. But it came with its own agenda - digging in between the rocks and snaking surreptitiously in every direction.
IVY (LEFT) MEETS MORNING GLORY (RIGHT)
The ivy resisted its expulsion root and branch, upending stones and lesser plants. When I was done, the pile of ripped out tendrils filled the tractor box. Another ruthless expansionist is the morning glory, dazzling us with its flowers as it infiltrates the garden.
IVY TAKING OVER THE AREA AROUND THE SEPTIC TANK
One morning Arsenio, part of the local builder's team, came to inspect a lingering damp patch on the cobbles. Such a patch had previously indicated a fractured pipe below. On close inspection, Arsenio reckoned it was at least partly dog pee but he took up the cobbles to make sure. The sand below was dry. He was right; we were relieved. So back the cobbles went. Better safe than sorry.
Here's a family picture to close. As you see, peace and quiet have descended (however briefly) on the house. We love these restful moments - time to share the spirit of Christmas.
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