MIST IN THE VALLEY
Last Friday I woke up feeling rather damp. Jodi said later that it could be the sign of a fever. In my case, it wasn't. The hot water bottle that I stick nightly into the small of my back had sprung a leak and shed its contents equally between me and the bedding. Fortunately the perforation was a tiny one from which water had seeped rather than spurted. No harm was suffered although I did feel rather chilly.
Saturday Slavic and I set about removing the contents of the wooden shed (the "work chalet" as Barbara calls it) in which we store the kind of stuff that "may one day come in useful". Barbara, unwisely, said I could throw out whatever I pleased. I took her at her word.
The stuff included an ancient, disintegrating chest (beloved of my wife and pictured above), all sorts of doggy utensils and numerous bags of spare cushions and sun-lounger covers. The latter had clearly attracted rats, whose droppings were distributed liberally around the floor.
TIDIED UP
Two of the rodents fled through the door as we started clearing. Two more did a couple of circuits around the interior of the shed (where we tried in vain to swat them) before following their fellows into the garden. The dogs looked on with interest but without much enthusiasm (unlike Maria's bitch, which seized an intruding rat and disposed of it).
The nest, located behind the chest, we took into the field and burned, along with a heap of garden cuttings. Loads of stuff (including the chest itself) we deposited in or beside the nearby public garbage bins. Slavic mopped the shed floor and sprayed the interior with disinfectant before we carried the remaining possessions back in. Two baited traps await any ratty returnees.
Sunday I spent an hour assisting an acquaintance to book an air ticket to South Africa, where his son is to be married. It took us four attempts, sitting in front of my computer, before we managed to make the reservation. This was partly because the software played silly buggers with the prices and partly because of misunderstandings with the intending passenger.
Monday he emailed me to say that one of his four flights had been mis-booked. He was right. I spent most of the morning trying to sort things out, first online (would have cost €120) and then on the phone to the airline. I managed to cancel the ticket and rebook it at a cost of €30. I'm still wincing. I don't know how the reservation went wrong. Somewhere along the lines in a hurry I must have ticked the wrong box.
AND HE HAS HUGE EARS
Over the weekend we joined visiting UK friends, the Mackrills, at the Hamburgo for supper. The couple are frequent visitors and keen photographers as well as fauna and flora fundis. Before leaving the house, we debated whether to leave the back door open in order to allow the beasts access to the warm living room. We usually lock them out as they tend to steal and rip up a cushion when we go out at night. On a cold evening we thought we might make an exception.
MACKRILL: SEASCAPE
It was an error of judgement. We returned to find not only a ripped up cushion, its stuffing drifting around the cobbles, but also the remains of the new box of cellophane-wrapped quality-chocolates that had lain on the dining room table. Of the actual contents of the box there was nary a trace; only the cover and the plastic tray survived.
The thief was undoubtedly Mini (Mini Mouth we call her), who knows well enough not to get on the table when we're around and to whom we had a few things to say. More worryingly, chocolate is poisonous to dogs. We had an anxious night in case any might suffer the consequences. None appeared to show any ill effects. Next time the little bastards can shiver.
Tuesday, when Jones trotted down to give her two waifs a bone (as she does each afternoon) she bumped into their hospitable owner. Her difficulty on such occasions is how best to decline his generous hospitality, whether in his living room or in the garage where he and his wife often sit shelling almonds.
ALMOND BLOSSOM
Baggy (the local liquor), often served with olives or biscuits, is the order of the day. On this occasion he was in the garage where he keeps only a small reserve bottle. Lacking a glass, he invited Barbara to drink directly from the bottle, explaining that no-one else had touched it since she was last there. "Did you," I asked her. "Yes, I certainly did!" she replied. When in Rome.....!
Speaking of which - my sister Cathy will be arriving from Berlin this evening to join us. Rather than bringing me a bottle of whisky, she suggested that I buy one in her name - not the kind of offer that I decline. Talisker is a favourite smoky malt, generally reserved for very special occasions (although I find Laphroaig and Lagavullin just as acceptable). I thought that it might be a nice idea not to open it until she was here. On the other hand, I reflected, better check it out before she arrives and allow it to breathe.
Wednesday, before my back threw another wobbly, we went to the Leroy Merlin store on the far side of Loule and, after lunching in their snack bar, purchased a pair of lights that we had been considering. They are LCDs, controlled by a zapper and capable of emitting light through the yellow, white and blue range as well as in a host of colours and patterns. I hooked them up briefly to check that they worked accordingly - and they did. The plan is to install them later in the year once we have modified the kitchen.
Thursday dawned damp and stayed that way. Our hike around the hills proved rather muddy, mainly because of all the earth that the wild boar had churned up yet again. On our return we built a fire and let it simmer for the rest of the day. I don't think that future generations are going to know the joy of warming oneself before a wood-fire. Jodi did her best to sort my back out. Barbara went to visit Maria.
Thursday evening Mike and Lyn joined us for supper and conversation. We had intended to meet at a restaurant but my back voted otherwise. The change of venue served only to improve an evening in which we resolved a number of international issues as well as enjoying an excellent meal.
Friday: An overnight storm stripped the blossom from the almond trees and scattered it like confetti around the cobbles. It doesn't bode well for the almond crop. Nonetheless we are grateful for the generous inch of rain that registers in the gauge.
TB SUNSET
In Portugal, by law, all entities dealing with clients have to keep a complaints book and display a sign to the effect that such is available. I hope to find the same when I get to heaven so that I may register my views on the poor design of the human spine. Whether that will bring about any improvement for future generations is another matter. In the meanwhile we are grateful to live a long way from Chicago.
BJ: SUNSET
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