Sunday: Barbara has just woken me with toast and coffee. I was immersed in a deep and frustrating dream that had me chasing anxiously around some foreign city in a futile search for a lost wife and briefcase.
SPRING COLOURSSuch anxiety dreams often spoil my nights, either landing me in the newsroom without a computer or at the airport minus my passport. My subconscious is troubled by something but it's not saying what.
FLOWERS FOR POOR PALLYMonday: Pally had to go back to the vet to have his bandage removed. We gave him a tranquiliser pill before taking the others on a short walk. On our return we found him laid out in his basket, which we heaved into the car, with a towel covering him.
FEEDING BARRIThe vet's expression, as he examined him, made it plain that the operation two weeks earlier had not served the purpose. The bone had not knitted and the leg still dangled uselessly. After some discussion, we accepted reluctantly that amputation was the best option.
Next stop was Lidl for our weekly shop. To avoid using the shop's plastic bags (which folk now have to pay for, by law) we always take red canvas shopping bags that Cathy obtained for us in Germany. At some point a little foreign fellow came along and asked Jones about a shopping cart. It wasn't clear exactly what he was saying but we indicated that he could get a trolley from the rack outside the shop.
When we came to pay, we became aware that our shopping bags were missing from the cart. And so, it became apparent, were a number of other items. A brief search revealed them all in a second cart standing in the aisle. Little wonder the foreign fellow had accosted us. It was the first time we'd hijacked someone else's cart (and the last). I was amused. Jones was not.
SUN-DOWNERS ON OUR FRONT PATIO(Her head was still full of Pally.) She might see the funny side later, she remarked. We reflected on the ironies of life over sandwiches and glasses of cold white wine at the snack-bar in Funchais.
Cyberspace and the airwaves are full of the hazards of flying with United Airlines following the unfortunate Dr Dao's experience. I note that the world's top-rated (5-star) airlines are all either Asian or Middle Eastern. With one exception US carriers are rated 3-star. Little wonder! One wonders whether humble pie comes free.
Tuesday: On Tuesday, after our walk, I phoned Mary in Benafim to ask when she might be able to cut my toe-nails. She said I should come immediately. So I did. There wasn't time to change my work trousers, which have a disintegrating patch on one knee and heavy stitching on the other, reflecting the burden of the years. (I have ordered two new pairs from Amazon.) Folks in Benafim don't get too bothered about such things. It's one of the reasons that I like the place.
DILLWednesday: Adrien came to strim under our many carob, almond and fruit trees. He is the son of the hairdresser whose services we have used pretty much since our arrival in Portugal in the 1980s. I remembered him and his sister as kids who used to pop in to their mother's salon in Loule. Now he's a husband and a dad. His sister works for one of the Gulf airlines.
Talking of this ageing business, we found ourselves in conversation with neighbours across our gate, as is often the case. In the course of this exchange, one of them commented, with regard to a sibling: "He's only 75!". We paused to think about the implications of such a statement. It's fortunate that "age" seems to recede along with the horizon.
After my Wednesday tune-up with Jodi, we lunched with a birthday-celebrating neighbours at a new tapas bar in Alte. It's well situated for a view of the passing show, with chairs inside and benches out but for the second time their white wine was barely cold. Barbara said it was ok. I said please bring me a beer.
Then we went to Loule to fetch Pally. We had to wait an age while the vet attended to another client. He gave us an armful of pills for Pally, along with instructions on administering them. We have to return in 10 days to have Pally's stitches removed. The dog himself is remarkably lively. It's proved quite impossible to enclose him on the patio, as advised. So we are reconciled to letting him canter around the garden. What will be, will be.
Thursday: We dropped Leonilde at the physio in Benafim. The rooms are situated in a tiny lane (impassable to vehicles) called Labyrinth Road. It's situated in the heart of old Benafim, among tiny white houses whose doors open straight on to the cobbles as they have for centuries. I thought I knew little Benafim but I'd never come across it before.
THISTLEAfter coffee at the Hamburgo, we returned through the fields in the valley, marvelling at the glorious poppies that liven the verges. Adrien is busy strimming. My fields are looking good. The house is still relatively ordered after Natasha's efforts yesterday. Llewellyn and Lucia will be joining us next week.
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