The week started well, my blog week that is. We got a fair bit done in spite of some mixed weather - sun, cloud, occasional drizzle and a pesky cold north wind.
Armenio came around last Friday to help me prune the fruit trees that he had grafted a couple of years ago. We thinned out the branches and snipped off the longer stems, aiming to keep fruit within easy picking reach.
On Saturday Slavic burned off the remnants of our earlier prunings after first chain-sawing into lengths any bits worth keeping for the stove. We regravelled a worn section of the circular drive.
And we transplanted half a dozen flowering succulents - although not the one in the picture. The plants start shooting from the main stem until one finds several new plants growing on the old one. It makes for serious congestion.
On Sunday two young men up at the talafe attracted the attention of the dogs. When Jonesy went up there for a sunset meditation, she found their unappealing handiwork spray-painted across the base.
She borrowed a can of white paint from our neighbour, David, and restored the marker to its original pristine state.
We've yet to repair the mess on the the garbage bins that we discovered equally vandalised at the end of the road. I shall suggest to the parish office that I paint the fronts although the authorities will have to replace the notices stuck to the fronts.
DELL OF NARCISSI
Monday brought the usual Portuguese lessons and a visit to the parish to obtain the stamp of the president on an invitation we are issuing to a distant South African relative. Obtaining a Schengen visa (if you come from what Potus would regard as a shithole country) means jumping through hoops. That's unless you have enough money to buy an expensive property in Portugal.
Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday left me laid low with the lurgy and living largely on Imodium. Jones was convinced that I was about to be upgraded to a better world and began planning for imminent widowhood. She's been much affected, as I have, by news from an old friend who has recently been diagnosed with cancer.
Apart from brief forays to Jodi and the pharmacy, we've stayed at home, I mainly unconscious in my recliner upstairs. I haven't slept so much in years, much of the time with hotties tucked in back and front. It's not a bad way to pass the day. Runs or not, the dogs would have none of it and dragged me out on walks. I kept them brief.
Thursday we emailed the vet with pictures of poor Sparky's swollen and congested right ear. She's forever scratching it or rubbing it on the ground to relieve the irritation that it causes her. Our various efforts down the years to cure or at least improve the condition have come to nothing. The vet says only surgery will do the trick now. She's booked in for next Tuesday.
Thursday also gave us three mms of welcome drizzle. I wish it had been 30, or even 300. We're deep into the rainy season and our river still runs dry.
The sun sets on another day. Sorry, more dogs to finish with. They're everywhere. Old Mother Hubbard had nothing on us.
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