Letter from Espargal: 20 July 2018

 
SUNSET (Marie - from her patio)
This week's blog comes with a motley collection of thoughts and photos, including this beaut from Marie (above). As usual, Slavic and I did our best on Saturday morning to make Valapena look like a model property. I worked hard and felt good afterwards. My back has been exceptionally well behaved for weeks. Long may it last!



Sunday morning my back threw a double wobbly as I was sitting in my (especially designed for backs) chair in the study. Felt like I'd been tasered, not that I've ever been tasered.  That afternoon I chose to stand for the football final, an excellent match that we enjoyed in the company of Lennart and Annchen. Vive la France!



Monday brought a visit to Alte for a healing massage from Jodi. I felt much better afterwards, or would have if Jodi hadn't called me outside to confront the GNR. Two officers were there to inquire why I was parked in Jodi's disabled-parking zone without the necessary badge.


MELLO, CLUTCHING HER NEW PIG (HAVING DEMOLISHED HER OLD ONE)
I was subjected to a lecture on the need both to obtain proper authorisation to park in a disabled bay and to avoid leaving dogs in the car, albeit in the shade with windows half-open. Sometimes, humble pie is the only dish on the menu.



The craziness is that the council zoned a single bay outside Jodi's rooms specifically for the benefit of her patients, few (if any) of whom possess invalid badges. The GNR often check that a car parked there belongs to a patient receiving treatment but have not previously insisted on the badge.


BRAVE-HEART AND NOT-ROBBIE, DEEP IN THOUGHT
Tuesday we went shopping before lunching with friends at Apolonia's delightful snack bar and hearing Donald Trump's explanation of why, when he said that he fully trusted his supportive Russian friend and ally, what he really meant was...... (fill in as required!)


DEAR-HEART SUNNING HERSELF ON THE IRONING BOARD
In-between the usual walks, plant tending, plum picking,  outings and Jodi visits, I have spent hours preparing for my part in Anne's funeral next week. If Ryanair works to schedule after two days of disruptive strikes, I ought to be back next Friday. But I'm not counting on it. Either way, there will not be a blog next week.



Concerned to avoid any last-minute rush and the burden of hold luggage, I carefully packed essential items of clothing for the trip into two small bags, an artful exercise if I say so myself. Anxious on my behalf to avoid excessive creasing, Jones has since unpacked them, with a promise to repack them in good time. It will be the first time I've worn a jacket since my last funeral several years ago. (Jones, who can be as pedantic as I can, wonders how many funerals I've had!)



Wednesday we  worked out how to adjust the duration of the multiple wash settings on the new washing machine. (I think that my wife is gradually becoming reconciled to its presence.) We are getting to the stage when one wonders whether the appliances will outlast their owners or vice versa.  We await a quote for the repair of the old one, which she misses.



As ever, she has spent much of her week in the garden. She sprang back while picking plums at the sight of a snake in the grass. Closer examination showed it to be just the sloughed-off skin.  We've been eating lots of plums in the nightly salads. There's a certain satisfaction about consuming one's own fruit, even when it's a mite tart.


BIRTHDAY FLOWERS FROM MARIE
Thursday Ana from the washing machine suppliers phoned to say that the old machine would require a completely new interior at a cost of some €350. The quote did not come as a surprise as we'd been warned. Regretfully, no! I confirmed that the machine should be dispatched to the knackers' yard for recycling.



Jones has summoned me outside several times to behold the planet, Mars, sitting big, bold and red in the sky. That's the dot you can see upper middle in the photo above. If you're not impressed by this, you may be by close-up below that I managed to capture with the camera. (No, it's not an orange; it's the real thing!)



We don't have a tripod to stabilise the camera. Even when one leans against a wall or rests on the railings, body tremor is such as to reduce extended zoom pictures to streaks of light. So I'm quite proud of this one.

It's time to water the garden and walk the dogs. Back in a fortnight.

Letter from Espargal: 13 July 2018

On Saturday we painted benches. We give a fresh coat each summer to half a dozen with wooden slats that are dotted around the garden. They're quick and easy. More of a challenge was dealing with the concrete benches and table that squat on the south patio, first rubbing them down and then touching them up. They weigh a ton - literally - or seem to.



It took two of us to tip the benches forward in order to slide protective cardboard sheets beneath them. I reflected on how unpleasant it must be to have a concrete roof descend on one's head in the course of an earthquake or bombing raid. What a difference a coat of paint made!


HOMEN HOME FROM THE HILLS
Most of Sunday I spent filling in forms, first on paper to be scanned into the computer, and then online. The former were intended for a company that submitted applications to the South African Home Affairs Department for certificates of one kind or another. The online ones were for the UK. The work took long hours, especially as I twice completed the online forms, only to run into a block when I tried to pay for them.


PLAY OF LIGHT
Monday, when the SA company responded to my email, it explained (in dubious English) that it didn't actually submit applications, it just "expidited" them. One had to submit them oneself. Ah well! It was worth a try.



I've also been in regular communication with Ian concerning plans for Anne's cremation service later this month. With luck the planned Ryanair strike will be resolved beforehand.



Monday afternoon "Jose" arrived at the gates and wondered if we would like any aerial shots of the property. He reminded us that we had bought several from him some years earlier. At that time he had hired a light aircraft to soar over the countryside, taking numerous snaps that he later tried to market. This time he came with a drone.


THE HOUSE, CASA NADA & TWO CARPORTS
When I expressed an interest, he assembled the drone and set about taking assorted photos of the area. A mobile phone mounted on the control enabled him to see whatever the drone camera was looking at and, presumably, to trigger it. The results were prompt and impressive.


THE PARK, SHOWING MY CONCRETE PATHS SNAKING UP TO THE TOP GATE
A purchase was agreed on condition that he gave me all the original digital images. With this Jose was happy. He extracted the chip and came upstairs with me to transfer the images to my computer, promising to return the following day with the framed pictures (which he did). (The cottages bottom-right of frame  [picture above] belong to my neighbour, Idalecio. The talefe  (trig-point) is upper left.)


THE ORCHARD, SHOWING THE CIRCUIT AROUND THE FIELD
On Tuesday I spent an hour touring our burgeoning orchard in the adjacent field on the tractor, picking fruit and snipping off the suckers from the base of the trees. This is the first year that we have a decent crop of plums and apples, albeit that we are having to share the fruit with the birds. Note the photovoltaic panels bottom-left of the field and the village reservoir far right of frame. In the evenings Jonesy often takes herself and a dram of baggy up to the summit of the hill, top-right, for a few reflective minutes.


STILL LIFE
Tuesday afternoon our new Electrolux washing machine was delivered. Its arrival did nothing to please my wife. In short, our (5-year) old unit had become unusable, requiring new bearings. My hope was to have it repaired and kept as a spare. But the firm's boss, who brought the new machine, said the whole interior would need replacing as the bearings were attached to the drum. He estimated the cost at some €250, more than the machine's worth.



Jones, ever the ecologist, thinks it's ridiculous to ditch a washing machine that's just five years old, whatever the economics. The appliance has been taken away pending a quote.



Another source of unease to my wife is the alleged disorganised state of her garden, in which she continues to spend long hours, cutting back, potting, tidying, irrigating and all the rest. I help with trimming and irrigation. In spite of her doubts, I think the garden looks lovely, set under trees on all sides; it brings me great pleasure.


PREPARING SUPPER WHILE I WATCH SOCCER
Tuesday evening we dined out on the front patio. While our days are too hot for (my) comfort, our evenings are made in heaven. As well as preparing supper, my wife was preparing to age a little overnight. I had a premature sip of something alcoholic.



Wednesday we lunched with Marie and Olly at the Quinta do Moinho, an establishment in a garden setting on the outskirts of Loule, offering accommodation, a restaurant and a pool. Although we'd often passed by, we had not visited it before. It proved the ideal place for a leisurely lunch. The tree-shaded ambience is delightful and if service is slow, it's worth waiting for. Barbara wore the same outfit that she had donned for her wedding, 39 years earlier and it fitted her as well as ever.



Birthday or no birthday, we still had to walk the dogs, water the garden and watch England take on Croatia. Never mind lads! 2022 is only 4 years away and a heroes' welcome awaits you. As I reflected, I'd rather watch England go out to Croatia in the semis than to France in the final. Leaves less room for grief and blaming the EU.


WATCHING FOOTBALL WITH LENNART
Earlier, our Swedish neighbours, Lennart and Annchen, had joined us to watch the England versus Sweden match. It wasn't the result Lennart was hoping for. (Much as we try to accommodate our guests' needs, some are beyond our powers.) Now there's a two-day break until the football climax at the weekend. Meanwhile, there's Wimbledon to entertain us.


WATCHING US WATCH FOOTBALL: ANNCHEN
Thursday morning I had a session with Jodi. My back - I hardly dare say it - has been particularly well-behaved of late. Long may it continue!


Thursday evening brought a combined birthday dinner at the Hamburgo. It's an occasion that Barbara and Pauline have shared for years. As well as the regulars, we were joined by (Fintan & Pauline's daughter) Caroline and her two young sons, now based in Poland.



They presented Barbara with a a birthday pendant that pleased her very well.

Letter from Espargal: 6 July 2018

HOLE IN THE SKY
I have this week only such trifles to relate as may entertain the idle and such photos as may please discriminating  horticulturalists . Occasional ventures into the garden apart, it's been a story  of digressions, diversions and distractions. The principal distraction, need I say it, is the football that has commanded the TV screen afternoon and evening. Indeed, Barbara wondered how I was going to cope with two footless days.



One such trifle was the filigree pendant that I bought for Barbara (who turns something or other in a few days) while passing through Faro airport en route to the UK. Coming home, I carefully separated the pendant from other small gifts intended to mark my return. Then, once she was safely in bed, I sought it to put away.  No luck! The pendant had disappeared. The following day I came across it in the pocket of my newly washed shirt - fortunately, none the worse for wear. So I confessed my ruse and presented it early.



Another Jones acquisition is a new (Lidl) "gardening" watch to replace the old one, now defunct, pictured above. The new one, allegedly made in Germany, looks much the same, not that its appearance is important. What struck me is the price - €5.00 - of which 23% is VAT. So, assuming that its watches are not loss-leaders, Lidl somehow makes a profit selling timepieces containing quartz movements and batteries for the price of a cup of coffee at the airport. I'd love to see the breakdown.



Friday afternoon clouds came rolling in and overnight we had marvellous soaking rains - all of 20mm. Rain late in June is rare in these parts. The only downside was a squelchy walk on Saturday morning - a price we gladly paid.


DAMP SUCCULENT
Also on Saturday, not for the first time, Jones drew my attention to the growing noise coming from the washing machine. (We'd already been in touch twice with the suppliers who'd promised to call back!) I opened the pantry door to hear an alarming clattering from its interior. We turned the machine off and moved the contents to the old washing machine in Casa Nada. A little googling pointed to worn drum bearings. When I visited the shop to remonstrate, they apologised, saying their technician was ill.



Back to football: Monday's game between Japan and Belgium was one of the best I've seen. Tuesday's between England and Colombia was one of the filthiest. Those Colombians are something else, talented actors given equally to histrionic agonies and openly fouling their opponents. Colombia is off our itinerary.



Wednesday afternoon is reserved for Natasha. We stay out of her way as she moves furniture, mops floors and gets into corners with the vacuum cleaner. She showed us pictures that had been taken of her in full Russian regalia at a local folk festival.


NATASHA AT THE "POPULAR SAINTS" PARADE
Barbara suggested that we try Apolonia's newly refurbished cafe in Almancil for a light lunch. Apolonia, for any not familiar with it, is a small chain of smart Portuguese supermarkets catering mainly for expat tastes and purses. If you are interested in exotic cars, Apolonia's carpark is the place to go.  We approved the extended cafe (smoked salmon salad for me, mixed-cereal roll for Barbara) although we were disappointed to see none of the old faces among the staff.



I might add that I continue on the belt-tightening straight and narrow with modest gains - or should that be losses - to show for my efforts. It's a case of keeping one's eyes on the prize rather than on the beckoning island malt in the liquor cabinet. So far so good.


MORNING GLORY - A RELENTLESS INVADER
Wednesday evening Ian called to say that Anne's cremation was to take place three weeks hence and that he'd be grateful if I could assist. Much as I dislike Ryanair (which I've so far avoided), it offers suitable flights to the nearby Stansted airport. I shall have to grin and bear it.


HOLLYHOCK
Barri has tummy troubles again; she's restless with constant burping and muzzle licking. We didn't get much sleep as we - mainly Barbara - sought to calm her overnight. Thursday morning, along with some bread and butter, brought a great improvement and saved us a visit to the vet. Instead we caught up with friends at the Leroy Merlin superstore on the far side of Loule. Among other things the store boasts a delightful cafe overlooking the MAR shopping complex and the sea.


ADOLESCENT AGAPANTHUS
On the way home Portuguese radio informed us that Ryanair cabin crews were planning a two-day strike over the period I'd booked to fly.  I couldn't find confirmation on the internet so I tried Ryanair's chat facility. What a long-winded, frustrating experience! The chat operator spent half her time looking for my booking reference. Eventually, after much confusion, we discovered that the "W" in the reference was two consecutive"V"s. The strike plans were later confirmed in the UK media. I sure hope that some compromise is reached.



Thursday evening. I dropped my trousers in the kitchen as I was preparing dog dinners to grasp the tick that was biting my bum. That was the last bum he bit. The air conditioning is to be serviced early on Friday.  After a welcome cool spell our temperatures are creeping creep up towards the 30s once again. My heat bumps are gathering strength. Jones continues to spend much of her day in the garden regardless. She and I have a 5 degree differential of comfort. Time she cast an eye over the blog!