DAMP, COOL, MISTY DAYS
This week has dodged and dived, ducked into doorways, snuck into basements, peeked between the curtains and peered through the foliage. It's been an elusive, evasive week, a hard week to pin down. And it certainly hasn't been the best of weeks.
Without trying to make too much of it, I have been assailed by a malicious man-cold of such monstrous malevolence as would have maimed a lesser mortal. The house has resounded with explosive sneezes while litter bins buckle beneath garbage-heaps of grubby tissues. (You can't accuse me of hyperbole!)
Jones, who has a better immune system than I have, has so far resisted the onslaught. (A double dose of recent antibiotics hasn't helped my case.) She has brought me numerous cups of brandy-reinforced, hot lemon and honey tea and borne my hacking coughs with admirable patience.
PRELUDE TO ARISING
The news is not all bad. The nurses at Loule hospital (I have come to think of them as "my nurses") have finally decided that my back does not require further attention. They attached a final bandage with a tinge of regret (I like to think) before wishing me well and on my way. (Old men will dream their dreams.)
Anticipating such a farewell, I presented them with a gift packet containing boxes of coffee capsules for use in their coffee machine (a previous gift of ours). I should add that the hospital lacks a canteen - and staff have to rely for refreshments on an "office hours" kiosk that operates in the grounds. So coffee on tap is appreciated by the day staff and a life saver for the night staff.
Given my lingering recuperation and the intermittently inclement weather, our daily walks have sometimes been confined to the park (two acres of wilderness fenced off from the house). There the asphodels have turned the countryside white as they bloom. Although they're lustrous in March, they soon fade and are a pain for the rest of the year.
While the dogs nose around on the terraces, I wander around among the trees and boulders looking for flowers. In nooks and crannies one may spy delicate daffodils celebrating the season.
And in dells among the rocks, lithodoria whisper among themselves although one has to listen very carefully.
Less welcome is the thriving espargo, the thorny wild asparagus weed that gives the village its name. It's an unforgiving brute and best tackled with respect. I have on numerous occasions retired bloodily from the fray.
Our leisurely meander concludes with the distribution of doggy treats at the top of the park and our return down the path to the house.
Two minutes from Valapena there's evidence of the visitors who passed by in the night - wild boar. We are content to leave the nights to them and they seem content to leave the days to us - a felicitous arrangement.
Our days are accompanied by the most delightful bird song. The principal soloist is, (we think) a song-thrush, a virtuoso who likes to perch on the phone pole from which he serenades us with an ever-varying melody. From a distant field comes a faint, equally melodious reply. Of an evening this blissful duet can continue for an hour or more.
Update: Wednesday morning. I enjoyed my first shower for several weeks. Barbara has now succumbed to the lurgy, although so far without matching my impressive nasal firepower or resonant brontosaurian cough. When Natasha arrived 11.30, we left the house to her and took ourselves to the beach.
The impact of recent severe weather along the coast - including two twisters that hit Faro - was obvious. Large quantities of the beach sand had been washed on to the road that forms the spine of the offshore island.
Although the road itself had been partially cleared, tons of sand still occupied the pavements. Diggers were at work at numerous piles, shoveling the sand into trucks for removal. They had a long job ahead.
Between outings I have been chasing the EDP (energy company) to discover why we are no longer being paid for the electricity our solar panels generate on their behalf. Two visits to EDP offices and several phone calls have not yet resolved the issue although a clerk at the Loule office said she'd heard rumours that payments were now being made biannually rather than monthly.
THURSDAY MORNINGThe drizzle that started pizzling down yesterday afternoon pizzles on. A misty hush has settled over the village. I have lit an early fire. The beasts approve. Indeed, there is some competition for the best seats.
Jones's cough is sounding more impressive. I have no idea how one even begins not to share an infection with a partner with whom ones shares a life.
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