Letter from Espargal: 23 February 2018

Saturday: Spring advances apace even as the drought continues. On every side the almond blossom is extravagant, effulgent, quite overwhelming in its exuberance. The bees exploiting the flowers sound like the humming chorus.  We left Slavic to spend the morning irrigating the fruit trees and Jonesy's garden while we ran Kerryn to the airport and then stopped at Loule hospital for my daily back treatment.  Ouch! The treatment room is starting to feel like a second home.



Sunday:  The hospital reception was almost empty. I wondered why people didn't get sick over the weekend. The duty nurse said the wound was mending at last and that, unless it bled through the bandage, I could skip a day. That was welcome news!



I persuaded Jones that a peek at the latest tablets at Mar Shopping might help to speed up my recovery. The new iPad is a beaut! Marina said they didn't have any models in stock but she could get one from the warehouse by Wednesday. Jones said I'd earned it.



Monday: While we were out walking I got a message from the store to say the iPad had arrived. Now, that was quick! We had to go into Loule anyhow for my English lesson.  Might as well drop by.



Vodafone, just next door to the electronics shop, were happy to remove the data chip from my hotspot and insert it in the tablet instead. The new device is a little heavier than the iPad mini that usually travels around with me but more than makes up for its extra weight with its clarity and gizmos.


PET-FRIENDLY ESTABLISHMENT
During my English lesson we discussed new legislation that will allow the owners of commercial enterprises to declare their premises "pet friendly", whether in specific zones or in total (excluding areas where food is kept or served). This is a new idea for the Portuguese. My pupils found it hard to credit that French lady diners often had Fifi seated beside them in expensive restaurants and that lots of British pubs permit pets.


VIEW FROM MY BEDROOM WINDOW
Tuesday: To our accountants for a session with an investment adviser. I am deeply gloomy about the prospects for sterling and anxious to hedge our interests where possible. The UK currency looks set to go one way as the grim realities of Brexit sink in. The idiots! We came home via the hospital. I'm now greeted as a regular.



Wednesday: We returned from our walk to find Ono missing. It's the second time that he's wandered off. The old fellow is succumbing to feebleness of mind and body as he enters his 18th year. He can hardly see for the cataracts in his eyes and his hearing's not much better - not that there's anything wrong with his appetite.



Fortunately, he knows the surrounding hills well enough and found his way back home without mishap although not before we'd spent an anxious half hour searching for him. From now on he stays on a lead.



While Natasha set about the house, we lunched at a newly-established snack bar-restaurant (Janela da Serra - Window to the Mountains) at the foot of the church in Salir. Neighbours had recommended it to us. In the balmy spring sunshine we chose to sit out.



The proprietors have obviously taken great care with the decoration, both inside and out. As Catarina explained to us, the establishment specialises in small dishes known in Portugal as petiscos and in Spain as tapas. 



It's not often that we dine alfresco on fried camembert and on salmon fishcakes, washed down with dry white wine, but Wednesday was an exception. We're impressed.



The only downside is the church bell that clangs painfully in one's ears every 15 minutes.

MOON BLOSSOM
Thursday: For the second day my expensive wifi-by-satellite internet connection is frustratingly slow. It's normally around 20mbps, with a guaranteed 2mbps if I exceed my monthly quota but I have barely a fraction of that. I phoned the suppliers to establish the problem. It emerges both that I'm over my quota (with a little help from visitors) and that the suppliers have failed to move me to the new contract, as requested and paid for.



We were briefly distracted by smoke arising from the hills behind Benafim as helicopters clattered overhead. Happily, it seemed to be extinguished quickly.


SOMBRE ORCHID
At the hospital, both day-duty nurses were keen to treat my back. I can't think when I last had such competition for my favours, however dubious. It's ironic, as I confided to them, that one has to be ill to enjoy their company.


Sufficient unto the day!

 

 

Letter from Espargal: 16 February 2018

 



Friday has dawned with mist in the valley but no sign of promised rain. Woe is us!



Our week has been divided unevenly between the usual chores, hospital visits (the groaning element) and entertaining our guest, Kerryn, seen here on a rocky perch at the talefe.



Kerryn (18), the daughter of one of Jonesy's nephews, bonded instantly with the animals, who appreciated her attentions,



and reciprocated them when opportunities arose. Our visitor is a part-time barrista and a student at an art college in Newbury where her South African family is based while her father is employed by a British firm.



I found myself doubling the treat allowance in order to keep the dogs on my side.



Kerryn's visit coincided with the Loule carnival. In spite of the distinctly chilly weather, lots of beautiful women took the opportunity to show off their curves,



as did some who were not so beautiful. If all were gorgeous, none would be gorgeous, so let us be grateful for the podges too.



As usual, there was much poking of fun at politicians, local and foreign.



We found that Kerryn came blessed with an astute mind, a healthy appetite and discriminating taste,



and, of course, with her all-important mobile phone.



On all such outings Prickles was our unfailing companion. While the ladies went walking, he would lead me on a bush-by-pole sniff-along.



Here we are at an expat gang-bang at the Regresso in Salir. Tony (far left) was embarrassed, when stopped by the police en route, not to have the required car-insurance documents with him. As the policeman's English was as elementary as Tony's Portuguese, the latter was unsure of the outcome.



Fortuitously, the same policeman later dropped into the restaurant for a take-away and was able to reassure me that he had instructed Tony only to get his documents in order asap. Much relief and not a little amusement!



My hospital visits are the price I'm paying for neglecting a cyst in my back that developed into a large septic ulcer. Steel-fingered medics are daily doing their damndest to murder it (and me) - before replacing the dressing.



Following these treatments I've once or twice found it necessary to restore my nerves in a snack bar around the corner.

Our guest returns tomorrow.  Slavic will be here to thoroughly water our trees while we run her to the airport.

Time to draw down the curtains on the week.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Letter from Espargal: 9 February 2018

One way and another it's been quite an interesting week.



On Saturday morning Slavic and I laboured at all kinds of tasks. Here he is scattering fertilizer pellets around the carob trees. Our efforts were rewarded on Sunday with 1mm of drizzle. Wish it had been 20mm but beggars can't be choosers. Barbara is already having to water parts of the garden - at the height of the wet season!


ON THE CORK WALK
After lunch we visited Benafim's (first weekend of the month) Saturday market, taking Russ along with us for the ride. He loves going out in the car, dashing hopefully to the gates as we prepare to leave. The market was heaving although there was a great deal more conversation rather than commerce.

O QUARTO DO CAO - THE ROOM OF THE DOG
I invested in a small embroidered name tag that I'd ordered for the spare room, where Russ prefers to spend much of his time. I should add that he's happy to share his quarters with occasional guests. On rare occasions we have to remind him that the bed is intended for humans; it's a reminder that he takes in good grace.



On Sunday we brunched with neighbours as is our custom. The picture above was taken by Helena on my left below, a guest of the Burdetts sitting opposite. Any such guests represent a temporary infusion of new blood and are thoroughly interrogated for news of the real world before we let them go.



Our brunch numbers go up and down, depending on who's around. As you may perceive from our apparel, it's been jolly cold. The Valapena salamandra has worked overtime. The irony is that while a polar wind expends its energies on the north side of our hill, the south basks in tranquil sunshine. Since our walks take in both sides, we have to choose between freezing on one and oozing perspiration on the other.


CAMELIA IN MEMORY OF SPARKY from MARIE & OLLY
Monday was my first day with a reasonably steady tummy after two weeks of lurching about with the lurgy. In my English class we talked about road safety. Alarmed at the recent rise in accidents, the Portuguese government is considering using light aircraft to monitor the highways and technology that blocks the phones of drivers on the road. Callers get a can't-take-your-call message. Apparently, France and Spain are already installing such.


SPARKY GOES TO HEAVEN
That evening our microwave packed up. When the lights began flickering, I went upstairs to check the voltage on the (Uninterruptible Power Supply) unit that protects my computer. It was flickering around the 170 mark instead of the usual 230. Little wonder the microwave wouldn't function.


IN CASE YOU MISSED HER
I phoned the EDP who promised to attend to the problem within the hour. They were true to their word. Their engineers didn't visit the house but they presumably fixed a fault on the small transformer at the bottom of the village for everything - including the microwave - was back in working order soon after.


POOR MELLOW, WHO CRIES FOR HER SOULMATE IN THE MORNINGS

There was much excitement a few days back when the EDP discovered that someone in the know had nicked a similar [live] transformer, the size of a large fridge, from a post about a km down a lonely road. That's downright cheeky. Presumably there's a market in second-hand transformers.


A HOPEFUL SIGN - MELLOW TEAMS UP WITH MINI
On Tuesday - the 100th anniversary of women's suffrage in the UK - the airwaves simply reeked of oestrogen. The BBC's Today  all-female- presenter morning news programme dealt with little else. Celebrity women interviewed important women about outstanding women who had proved themselves equal to men - all the while bearing children, cooking family meals and cleaning the house.  Noble but very dull! The world's volatile stock markets played second fiddle!


TREATS UNDER ALMOND BLOSSOM - LATE BECAUSE OF THE DROUGHT

In despair I turned the radio off. Jones, I should add, had also had her fill. If I wasn't acquainted with so many clever and sensible women, I might well have come to think female suffrage regrettable. (PS: I sent a well-done email to a British MP, Anna Soubry, who is defying the vociferous Little Englander Brexiteers whom we so despise. If our curses were effective, they'd be laid low with the pest, the whole pernicious bunch.)



Also on Tuesday, after carefully filling in the required application form, I paid my first (and last) visit to Loule's indoor swimming pool centre - encouraged by Jodi the physio. Matters were not helped that I'd forgotten a towel and was unaware that slip-slops were a requirement. Most of the two pools were occupied by classes. The tiles were wickedly slippery and the two lanes that I was permitted to use were both occupied by muscular Olympic- style swimmers doing serious training. My swim - nay, my dip - was mercifully brief. We live and learn. Next we'll try Quarteira's pool. Can't be worse and there's nothing to lose.


AGARVE ATTENUATA FLOWER SPIKE - RISING AS THE PLANT NEARS THE END OF ITS LIFE

Late Tuesday, as we prepared to sup with neighbours at the newly re-opened Hamburgo, we received a message from Barbara's South African nephew's daughter in the UK to the effect that she had obtained the necessary Schengen visa and would be joining us on Thursday afternoon. Some hurried communications followed to determine the details.


DOGS IN THE PARK
Wednesday I ploughed our fields and caught up with some long-standing tasks around the house. Jones prepared the guest bedroom. We have warned her 18-year old great niece that we don't live the high life. I hope the young woman likes spoiled dogs, pastoral views and country walks.



The blog is coming to you early this week. As I write, Natasha cleans the house. We are off to the airport shortly.