STAYING UPRIGHT ON TREACHEROUSLY SLIPPERY PATHS
This week has unfolded, a bit like a damp ball of string that unwraps itself as it bobs uncertainly downhill. It's hard to know exactly where it started. But last Saturday's as good a starting point as any.
WORK IN PROGRESSSlavic and I set about silencing the unruly guest-bedroom (NOTE the placing of the hyphen) and bathroom doors, running a thin rubber lining down the door frames and seeking to replace the door locks with magnetic closers. That, at least, was the plan. Unfortunately, the magnetic closers didn't fit the existing slots. The question now is whether it's worth bringing a carpenter in to do a proper job.
We also spent a couple of hours cutting back the exuberant winter growth in the park. Several large piles of greenery await disposal once the weather clears.
THE ALGIBRE FROM THE BRIDGE
In spite of generous rains this month, the Algibre at the foot of hill remains a dry, stony water-course. We peer hopefully over the bridge wall each time we pass, thus far to no avail.
Monday we presented ourselves for treatment to the dermatology unit at Loule hospital. We both had bits nicked out of us and got zapped with those cryo-gas guns. Jones needed several stitches in her arm and has to report to the hospital to have the dressing changed. I got away more lightly.
THIS IS JONES
After fetching the dog bones from the butcher, I joined Jones in the pharmacy, taking her by the arm from behind and relieving her of the ticket in her hand. She was most surprised, quite astonished in fact. So was I to see that I was clutching the arm of a woman of similar stature with identical hair and the same off-white jacket.
THIS IS NOT JONES
I was most apologetic although she saw instantly that the mistake was innocent. The same thing nearly happened in the supermarket a day or two later when I was about to dump a bag of dog food into a stranger's trolley. It was only the trolley contents that alerted me. As you see, the error might be forgiven.
While we were in town we popped into an impressive office that has opened to publicise the posh Ombria resort being developed just beyond Tor, between us and Loule. The sales consultant was delighted to describe just how wonderful it was going to be. When complete, the resort will comprise a hotel, clubhouse, conference centre, restaurants, villas, apartments and a golf course, set in hundreds of hectares of woody hillside. Stage One is due to open two years hence.
THE MODEL
Jones hates it, I hardly need say. In her world, development is a four-syllable word. I'm more sanguine. If it brings useful investment and employment to the Portuguese interior, I can live with it, even if we can't afford to live in it. The developers are anxious to emphasise the resort's ecological foundations. Jones liked the ecology the way it used to be before the machines moved in.
Tuesday I had a tune-up with Jodi. As she kneaded my back I confided to her that we had both passed the Portuguese language exams that we undertook last month as part of the requirement to obtain Portuguese citizenship. Jodi, who is also South African born, took the same road a few years ago and gave us valuable advice on how to proceed. (The evils of Brexit, now just four months away, are never far from our thoughts!)
GORGEOUS FLOWER ON A PERNICIOUS WEED
As you may imagine, we were both (Jones and I) very pleased and relieved to have got through. Jones had earlier insisted that she wasn't going to sit the exam again, whatever the result. Once was enough. We both found it rather tougher than we'd anticipated.
A TOUGH, THORNY, RESISTANT CREEPER
Another visit I made was to the secretary of the Senior University who has been badgering me to continue with English conversation classes this coming year. After more than ten years of teaching I felt a bit stale and took the last quarter of the year off, both to travel and to think things over.
AUTUMN COLOURS
Another discouraging factor has been the recent deaths from cancer of two long-standing pupils, both men my own age (and two ex-Marist colleagues from heart attacks.) One is reminded of the limited septuagenarian horizon. Anyhow, following my conversation with the secretary, I've agreed to give it a go again in 2019.
A DRINK
Except when it's rained, we've walked morning and evening. We relish the autumn days. What's more, I need to shed several kilos that have attached themselves to me during our breaks and my travels. One is wise to take great care on the steep paths and smooth rocks. I unblushingly use two walking sticks. Even Jones has been seen with an occasional stick in her hand.
As Natasha set about the house on Wednesday, we took ourselves to Sao Bras to top up our baggy and olive oil supplies before going on to lunch at Faro Beach. Across the estuary a TAP airbus was doing circuits and bumps, presumably at the hands of nerve-wracked trainees. The drama of making one's first "real" landing was reflected in an excellent easyJet TV documentary earlier this year.
PADDED LEATHER SEATS AT ZURICH AIRPORT GATES
Speaking of which, I was impressed by both Zurich airport and the Swiss (airline) service that I received en route to and from South Africa where I spent a week with the Bensons in Witbank and a day with the Joneses near Johannesburg - for whose hospitality thank you all.
I also enjoyed a morning with Barbara's nephew, Chris Jones, who had flown up from Cape Town to oversee the repair of a vast mining boom. Chris stood me to an excellent lunch at Rand Airport.
He later sent me this picture of half of the boom being transported back to the open-cast mine concerned - the biggest load ever seen on the road. How on earth it was lifted on to the trailer (and off again) boggles the imagination.
Our black and white cat, Not-Robbie, who upgraded himself from visitor to resident status some months ago, is starting to throw his weight around with the two established black cats, skinny little runt that he is.
CAT ON A WARM TIN ROOF
Barbara now has to feed her established felines separately to prevent the intruder from elbowing them out of the way.
In the meanwhile they've parked themselves in the chair in front of the TV, beside the fire. What a delight the fire is at this time of year! On a dull day we light it early and keep it just aglow in the heart of the living room. In the evenings some of us are inclined to doze off in front of it, especially after dinner on a dull TV night.
December looms - my least favourite month - the tinsel time of expectation and excess, of traffic jams and shopping queues, Santas skulking in the supermarkets, Silent Night wafting through the loos. T'will soon be over! Come my dogs, it's time for a walk!
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