Friday evening we joined the Espargal expats and the Cusack family at the chicken shack for a celebration. The banner says it. Like the cake, it came from the "kids", Erik, Neil and Lisa, who had all flown in for the occasion.
Saturday: Our main task was to extend the earth surround of the big almond tree beside Casa Nada. Although almond trees are hardy, they have their limits. This one's thinning leaves were an indication of distress. The fault was ours. We hadn't considered how severely the surrounding brick paving would restrict its water supply. Slavic notched the bricks with an angle grinder before breaking them evenly and replacing the reinforced concrete kerb on the enlarged base. The tree now has a good square metre of earth to collect water.
Sunday: We asked Manuel at the Hamburgo over brunch about the body we'd seen sprawled on the pavement in Benafim the previous week. He said it was that of an epileptic woman who had suffered a fatal attack. I thought that at least one of the onlookers might have covered her with a sheet.
Monday: Lisa came along on our walk. A cool, crisp autumn morning complemented the panoramic views across the hills to the white-splotched towns along the coast. At the viewpoint we stop to admire the scenery and consider the day. On lucky days, the dogs get a titbit here (as well as a snack on our return). Jones decides which days are lucky.
We had arranged for Neil to meet us at the house with his drone. He had already used it to supply us with superb photos of the house, prompting us to ask for pictures of our adjacent field.
The field comprises four plots that we have acquired from neighbours down the years. As you may see below, it's bounded by tarred roads right and bottom and by a wall at the top. On the left a steep right of way (leading to the talefe) separates it from our house. The curved white ribbon (upper left) is our driveway circuit. Casa Nada and the two carports are visible bottom left and the photo-voltaic panels bottom centre. The electricity generated is fed directly into the national grid.
The white construction upper right (above) is the municipal pump-house cum water deposit. Water is pumped up from two boreholes at the base of the hill and in the flood plain (below). Benafim - 3kms away - is spattered across the slopes of the far hill. The white dots mid-pic represent the hamlets of Birrao, Cotovio and Estiveira.
Speaking of Casa Nada, I received the photo (below) from the lawyer who is trying to assist us to register the old house. We obtained it from the Loule council archive as part of the attempted registration process. Might the old house pictured be Casa Nada, was the question. I fear not. We certainly didn't recognise the building or the surroundings, neither did any of our Portuguese neighbours. Very frustrating!
Returning to our visitors - Bobby, who is fairly fussy about who enters the property, made it clear that Lisa was at the top of the welcome list. Even the orphans, who treat all visitors with the greatest suspicion, found her acceptable - albeit they kept their distance. Jonesy took the pics. The heap on the cobbles is a tangle of old carpets and clothes beloved of the dogs.
When the cobbles are cold, they either perch on it or, in the case of the orphans, use it as a base to play-fight. Jones is forever adding new strips to it as the old ones disintegrate. I know that there are an awful lot of dogs in the pictures but, as you see, it's jolly difficult to take a photo of anywhere that a dog isn't.
The dogs aside, we are also the servants of three cats (who have featured from time to time); Apart from these, Jones also feeds a stray whom we call Not Robbie. Not Robbie is so named because he was briefly mistaken for a look-alike named Robbie. Barbara meets him each afternoon when she makes her way down the narrow lane below the house with bones for two neighbouring dogs, Maggie and Blackie (that's another story).
She gives the cat a plate of meat and biscuits on the way down and she she tops it up on her way back. Not Robbie was all skin and bones when she first started feeding him several years ago. Now, he's quite a handsome cat.
One night I had a vivid dream - that follows. Immediately afterwards I woke and, retrieving my iPad from the bedside table, wrote it down while it was fresh in my mind. My subconscious would seem to be trying to reconcile various episodes in my life:
[We were walking up a dark road. After passing a building, we allowed ourselves some light even though we were meant to observe a blackout. When we arrived, we reported to the senior officer, a short stout man.
"Lieutenant Benson reporting," I said, saluting him. He replied: "Shall we continue this conversation in the bar?". We thought that an excellent idea. I was aware that I was wearing tight, calf-length jeans. A door down the passage on the left led into the bar. The room was large, with a billiards table in the centre and a dozen or more monks in white cassocks standing around. I too was wearing a white cassock.
A monk asked me: "Are you still with us then and not in Manchester or Monmouthshire?". He obviously knew about my monkish uncertainties. "So far, so good," I replied. I had a class to teach and hadn't prepared a lesson. I thought we would just have to read a passage from a set work.]
FOUR SOUTH AFRICAN NOVICES, MITTAGONG, AUSTRALIA 1963 - ALL WERE TO LEAVE THE ORDER WITHIN A DECADE
Footnote: I was once a part-time lieutenant and for some years wore a white (summer) cassock and taught schoolboys. After leaving these "employments" behind me, I vowed never to wear a uniform again.
The remainder of the week has been devoted largely to getting the house and garden ready for the arrival of our house sitters. I belong to the school that believes in allowing visitors to see us as we live; Jones likes TV ad perfection, which isn't easily achieved in the presence of 12 live-in animals. But if it keeps her happy, I don't mind.
CUTTING BACK
NOTE: We are preparing to go on holiday. This will be the last blog for several weeks!
PS: Two chicken thighs that were cooling on the patio table appear to have got up and walked off. Either that or one of our beloved little doggies has purloined them. No-one is saying a word!
WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE CUSACKS
No comments:
Post a Comment