Letter from Espargal: 6 January 2017

Although my electronic gadgetry informs me that we are now in the year 2017, the start of January in these parts feels little different to the end of December. There's nothing in the air to mark the exit of one era and the arrival of another - the Trumpian and Brexit era. The hunters who were bang-banging down in the valley on New Year's Eve were back at it the following day, oblivious to the tidings; not that they bothered us.



In Espargal, and more particularly in Valapena, the midnight hour arrived, not with a bang and not even with a murmur, just with the chimes of Big Ben via the headboard speakers to mark the change-over as the beasts and I settled back. Cathy was saying that Berlin seemed to be exploding around her with thunderous fireworks. The only sound here, apart from the radio, was Prickles' gentle and rhythmic snoring. I have to say that I liked it that way.


BARBARA AT GRADUATION, 1964

Jones too reported much sound and fury in London where she and her family likewise celebrated the big moment in their beds. She flew back to Faro later that day, emerging in the temporary arrivals hall with one hand gripping a bulging suitcase, stuffed with Christmas goodies from her hosts. Thank you hosts. (Faro airport is still in the throes of a mega overhaul!)


THAMES SIDE WALK WITH LUCIA, EDGAR AND HAZEL

Behind her she left Llewellyn with a cold and here she found me with one. I can only think that I picked it up during a check-up at Loule hospital a few days earlier. Hospitals can be very bad for one's health, as the media constantly remind us. Loule hospital, if it were the culprit, did me no favours for the cold is as unpleasant as any I have suffered, a level-one man-cold of a severity incomprehensible to womankind.


DOG CAFE

In Jones's absence I kept myself pretty busy. One morning was devoted to (yet another) fight with our incompetent internet TV and phone line suppliers. I had visited them several weeks ago to cancel the phone (which has served the interests of cold and phantom callers more than ours.) However, the suppliers didn't cancel it and continued to charge me.


ANOTHER LLEWELLYN PHOTO

So back to Faro I went to query things. The pretty (useless) bimbo to whom I spoke picked up a mobile phone and called the number of a colleague who took 30 minutes first to offer me a 40% discount on my subscription if I stuck with both TV and phone - I accepted - and then to effect the change. He kept asking me to hold just a few more minutes while he diddled on his computer.


BACK HOME, WITH MINI

Why the bimbo was incapable of doing this herself remains a mystery. I had the same palava last year when I tried to cancel my wifi subscription. The company policy appears to be: do nothing until the customer returns to complain. Deal with Meo at your peril! (Meanwhile we still have the phone line but for the moment there's no phone plugged into it. We remain contactable via email, sms, WhatsApp, mobile phone and Skype.)



The one real benefit of my visit was the purchase of a battery-operated vacuum cleaner. There's no cord to trip over, it's light and maneuverable, it has enough power to run for an hour and it really works. I made good use of it over the next few days as I sought to keep the house clean enough to win the returning Jones's approval. Inevitably, this was a goal in which I received little assistance from the dogs, who moult incessantly.



My farmer neighbour, Armenio, after helping me cut back old almond trees, with a view to grafting them in the spring, invited me round to his mini-museum to taste his latest brew. As the barrel lacked a tap, he had to suck it out through a tube. Tasted pretty good, nonetheless.



His museum is filled with a range of old implements as well as numerous natural sculptures. These he shapes from the roots of a local tree (ripped out by diggers clearing the land), sanding them and varnishing them to get the finish. They are spectacular and I've no doubt would sell well should he decide to put them on the market.



Twice I visited a holiday house in the village recently acquired by a Swedish couple. I had promised to take around some firewood to warm the house ahead of their return. However, as they had earlier remarked, the small wood-burning stove did nothing to encourage the building of fires.

PICTURE TAKEN FROM OUR PATIO TO CHECK WHETHER SMOKE WAS RISING FROM THEIR CHIMNEY

After discussing the problem with them, I returned with a chimney sweeping kit and an extension ladder to check the top of the chimney. The exit of the stack was clear and the chimney - as far as the brush would reach - was virtually clean, so I could only think was some other problem. I put them in touch with the builder, whose workers subsequently removed a large birds' nest from the stack. The fire now draws enthusiastically!



Each year we get an invasion of these little "Christmas" beetles. Here you see a dozen or so that had fallen into a water butt and which, after photographing them, I rescued. At least I tossed them into the garden and wished them well. Jones said she had done the same a little earlier in the day. Much of the time we come across the little creatures lying on their backs on the floor, either dead or twitching their little legs uselessly. I reflected that evolution was having a bad day when it signed off on the Christmas beetle.