Letter from Espargal: 29 March 2019

CAITLIN, MINI & JONES
Our Goddaughter, Caitlin, joined us this week on the second leg of a flying visit to Europe from her home in New York.  She flew in from Lyon (via Lisbon) late on Monday night. It was a return visit to Espargal. She and the dogs promptly reestablished their mutual admiration relationship.



Tuesday we nosed around Estoi and Faro and supped on chicken at the Hamburgo. It was only after we got back home that I received a "can you help" call from Natasha, who was stranded with a friend at Lisbon airport. I should backtrack a little and report that I had used a credit card a week earlier to book flights to Madeira for the pair of them.


NATASHA OVERLOOKING FUNCHAL HARBOUR
They had arrived in Lisbon in good time to find that EasyJet had cancelled their evening flight and that it wasn't able to find them overnight accommodation, nor could I. 



What's more, they couldn't access the check-in site with the boarding cards for the following morning's flight. One way and another it proved to be quite a busy night. It was in a good cause. As you see, they arrived safely.



Wednesday we got another call for assistance - this time from Maria (the lady with the broken shoulder) whose visiting relative had left an important item behind. It needed to be returned to him post haste. I carefully took along the necessary envelope and registration form to her house, congratulating myself on my forethought. We dropped the parcel off in Benafim before heading to Loule station to book a ticket for Caitlin on the following morning's train to Lisbon.


TIME FOR A TREAT
At the station I discovered that I'd left my bag (containing wallet, licence etc) at Maria's. So back we went to fetch it. Then we returned to Loule station. To my surprise, we found the ticket office closed. There was a serious communications problem, an official told us, and it would remain shut for several days; but trains were still running and we could purchase a ticket in Faro.



We lunched at the beach rather than in Faro, consuming enormous sandwiches and watching the planes coming and going across the estuary. While the ladies went for a walk,  I managed to book Caitlin a ticket online (the system's a bit hit and miss). Thursday we were up early to get her to the station. She's spending 24 hours in Lisbon before flying home. (I broke my two month period of abstinence to celebrate the excellent bottle of whisky she brought me.)


EARLY MORNING ROMP IN THE PARK
We also assisted a neighbour whose uni-lingual Portuguese courier needed detailed phone directions to find her house. And we made several calls to the fire service on behalf of another who wanted to burn off cuttings. The requests were denied. The country is in a state of drought. There has already been a big fire upcountry and the bombeiros are playing safe.



Coming home through the valley we saw that all the native road-side trees had been ripped out - dozens of them - and were lying on the verges awaiting disposal. The wild-fire season looms. Leaflets have been stuffed into postboxes warning householders of the need to take all necessary fire precautions by the end of the month. With luck we'll get a drop of rain over the weekend. We need it badly.



There are a couple of minor successes to report. Birds are returning to the "rat-proofed" bird feeder. The sparrows come in groups. The doves play king of the castle. I haven't spotted ratty recently - not that he's likely to have gone far.



And I have turned the tripod from a defunct telescope (not mine) into the handy stand for my keypad and mouse. More often than not, I find it more comfortable to work at the desk standing up than sitting down.. You may have noticed: today is Brexit day and Brexit is as far off as ever. What a circus!


IT'S ALL SO TIRING
PS. The clocks go FORWARD this weekend.

Letter from Espargal: 22 March 2019

 SORRY ABOUT THE SPACING PROBLEMS BELOW !

This week I am able to report significant progress with our pool project. (Do I hear a distant round of applause?) We have filled the pool almost to the top, pausing at the bottom of the skimmer to fix a slight leak.

In truth neither the skimmer nor the inlet fitting is completely water-tight in spite of much tightening of the fixtures that clamp around rubber seals. As a result, fine beads of water are inclined to dribble down the side of the pool. From Jodi, who has an identical pool, I gather that such leaks are commonplace and that the only way to stop them is to employ a suitable silicon product to obtain a proper seal.

On her advice I acquired the silicone as well as a number of jubilee clips to tighten the hose fittings. The clips are necessary as the additional lengths of flexible pvc hose (that I bought in order to extend the pump-filter unit) do not mate properly with the original hoses. Moreover, the original clips tend to burst apart if tightened.

Unfortunately, the new clips have proved to be too big for the hoses and will need to be exchanged for smaller ones - evidence that measurement beats estimation every time. Fortunately, the woman who runs the hardware store in Benafim is a honey who will take them back without a fuss.

But all is not gloom and doom. On the positive side I can report twin successes. The first has been to extend the legs of an old plastic table to construct a light frame for a cover over the pump-filter unit - the second to secure the shaky pool ladder neatly to an adjoining tree.

This was not an insignificant achievement. The ladder was not designed for septuagenarians with bad backs. (I am kneeling to type!) On first using the ladder Slavic confided that he thought it advisable for me not to follow suit. To be continued.....

A project still being refined is the rat-proofing of the bird feeder.  The birds have yet to come to terms with the enticing nest of sticks and straw now enveloping the rat-obstructing bin-lid at the top of the feeder. Apart from a couple of suspicious doves, by and large the avian community have kept their distance.

It was just a matter of time I explained to Jones, before they flocked back; a little patience was all that was needed. Midweek we asked Natasha whether she had seen any birds eating there as she cleaned. No, she told us, just a rat.

STONE SCULPTURE - THE WORK WE THINK OF OUR SCOTTISH NEIGHBOURSThe week brought our annual meeting with the accountant who prepares our tax return. We have been dealing for years with the woman and the firm concerned, one that caters mainly for expats. We email her the details and try to clear up any issues in advance so it’s usually a fairly brisk affair.

MORE STONE SCULPTURES
The only complication that arose this time concerned the sale of some modest German investments. While I had all the relevant figures I hadn’t a clue about the meaning of various financial terms in the accompanying documents, terms that proved to be of interest to the accountant. Not for the first time I had reason to be grateful to my Berlin-based sister.

TONGUE ORCHID
Another development on the bureaucratic front has been the arrival of our requested birth-certificates at the consulate in Lisbon. Although the officials there are happy to post them down to us (on receipt of a registered, addressed, stamped A4 envelope) we also need to renew our passports and to send off requests for the police certificates that have to accompany the birth certificates. (No, they couldn't be requested simultaneously for reasons I shall spare you.) So we are pondering visits to Lisbon.

As ever, Brexit dominates our media lives with one political drama following another. Yesterday Llewellyn drew my attention to an online petition in favour of revoking Article 50 and keeping the UK in the EU.  (petition.parliament.uk). For a few hours I was unable to access it as the sheer weight of petitioners brought the site down.

THE GOOD LIFE
When I was able to reach it middayish on Jones’s behalf (I don’t have British citizenship), just over a million people had registered their (electronic) signatures. By late evening it was over two million. By Friday lunchtime it was over three million. I hope that it doubles and redoubles.

Both Jones and I have spent some hours in the garden - she rather more than I - where an abundance of foliage continues to colonise the paths in spite of the serious lack of rain.

BEE IN LAVENDER
Two more of my established oak trees in the park have died, much to my sorrow. That part of the property depends entirely on the rainfall. In the formal garden - if any area can be so described - we’ve reluctantly started watering the pots and the more delicate shrubs.

WILD BOAR DIGGINGS IN OUR FIELD
This is a time of year when irrigation should still come from the skies. As another hot summer looms, the government has issued warnings to property owners of the need to comply with fire-safety regulations - especially trimming trees and getting rid of dry undergrowth. Slavic and I will soon have to strim the knee-high winter vegetation in the park. I’m loath to do it yet as any (longed-for) rain will ensure yet another crop.

What I haven't mentioned is the tree that sprang into the road, just as I was letting the car run back the other evening. Fortunately it didn't do much damage. That's to say, nothing that the panel beaters won't be able to repair. That's if it doesn't prove cheaper to look for a new car. Now there's an idea. I quite fancy the new Honda Hybrid.

Jones moon rises

Letter from Espargal: 15 March 2019

STILL LIFE
This week has slipped away like a parent tip-toeing past the cradle of sleeping babe. We have been immersed equally in tasks (mainly pool) and Brexit. The blog I usually sit down to on a Wednesday is seeing the hurried light of day barely an hour before its customary deadline. So I have only a few snippets to offer you.



One task was to find a way of keeping ratty and partner off the bird feeder, where they were dining at leisure each morning. Slavic suggested using the top of an old tub, which seemed a good idea. Slavic had hurt his eyes while welding the previous day and was lucky not to have sustained a serious injury.



As Jones pointed out, the new arrangement deterred the birds as much as the rats, either because they didn't like the look or it or had no easy landing point. So I've added a framework of sticks that I hope may prove more attractive to the avian community.



Last Saturday Slavic and (a neighbour) Sven assisted us first to drain the remaining rain water from the pool and then to rearrange the lining to remove the wrinkles.  The previous day Jones had climbed inside, in an (ultimately successful) bid to drain most of the water by gravity suction into a large tub. (Note the hat, whipped off - to my intense irritation - by a gust of wind and resting in a shrub.)



Before filling the pool completely we have to connect up the filtration system that I have been slowly assembling with assistance from Fintan. The parts come in several packets and boxes, each with a manual that covers several similar systems. As often as not I find that I'm either missing a part or wondering what to do with those that remain.



On advice from Jodi (who has an identical pool) we have invested in a (bubble-wrap) solar blanket as much for the sake of "Jones's" bees (that we fish out each time we pass) as to warm the water. I've yet to cut away the plastic lining inside the skimmer, visible on the far side of the pool.


YES, I KNOW ABOUT THE HOLES
In a bid to silence the guest room and guest bathroom doors, I have invested in special magnetic door closers and lined the door frames with rubber strips. In some respects I have created a rod for my own back as it's meant that I've had to re-engineer the locks and bolts.



The evenings have seen us glued to the media to follow the critical Brexit votes in the UK parliament. (The news follows me around the hills via the mobile phone in my breast pocket.) Some of the outcomes have been welcome; so has the improvement in sterling.



The whole business tends to get us rather worked up, which fortunately is not true for the beasts, whose daily routine helps to distract us from the political uproar. How can presumably intelligent people be so insular as to cut off their noses to spite their faces?



Some of them we can hardly bear to listen to. Little wonder that the UK is so divided over the issue. As least Jones and I are on the same side. I sent a brief complimentary email to a female Cambridge professor who was the only sane voice on a BBC political discussion programme. To my great surprise I got a grateful response early the following morning.


BREXIT - WHAT BREXIT?

Letter from Espargal: 8 March 2019

THE PRINCESS AND THE PEA
If ever you should consider putting in an above-ground pool with a flexible plastic liner, I recommend that you take a cold shower and a cup of tea and think again. Either that, or call in the professionals.


SLAVIC & HIS BROTHER, ROSLAN
As you may imagine, I speak from recent experience. Work got underway on Sunday morning. Laying the base proved to be the easy bit. At this point one is still filled with hope and anticipation.



Next comes the metal facade. It weighs a ton and has to be fitted inch by inch into a groove in the base track. Like much in life it's easier said than done.



The two ends of the metal surround have to meet exactly in order to be bolted together. Note the painting ladder that we have thoughtfully placed in position. Once the perimeter is sealed, workers are either in or out.



Frequent stops were made to consult the installation manual. This was a largely fruitless exercise as the booklet appeared to relate to a completely different pool. Assembling the pool ladder, visible behind the workers, was a task that required an engineering degree.



The support posts have to be placed at exactly the right distance apart before the pool liner goes in. The liner also weighs a ton. It has a seam around the bottom that is meant to line against the base of the pool. Some hope!



Five hours, numerous discussions (in 3 languages) and many reverses later, the pool is up -  up enough for the team to pose. There are a few things still to straighten out but then there's time enough before the start of the swimming season.



Our efforts were closely watched by several pairs of eyes. Not Robbie didn't say anything but he didn't need to.



Monday: Time to scoop out the overnight blossom litter and to attend to a few of those unwanted wrinkles.



The manual says put in an inch of water and then push the seams into place around the perimeter to eradicate the wrinkles. Ho Ho! The fellow who wrote it had a keen sense of humour.



Shortly after this photo was taken, it began to drizzle and we retired to rethink tactics. We also found a video online that showed exactly how the whole thing should have been done - a case of "I wouldn't start from here".



It was all too much!



Far too much!



Saturday: (Going back in time). The previous day, Slavic and I - mainly Slavic - completed the rock surround.



It looked pretty good, especially after we'd planted succulents in the two green half tubs.



Jonesy cleaned up around the edges. Following the installation of the pool, this area is largely out of sight.



One task that we did complete was the bath upgrade. The white patch around the plug represents one coat of primer and two coats of finisher. Visitors may puzzle slightly about the colour difference but at least they won't think it's dirty - which is what matters to Jones. I did consider painting the whole of the base or even of the entire bath but this might have been over-egging the pud.



(Barbara's brother) Llewellyn and Lucia travelled down at the weekend with their dogs to spend a couple of days looking around. They based themselves in a nearby cottage where we twice joined them for snack dinners. Pally popped down the driveway on Tuesday morning to say goodbye. From left to right in the murk that's Douglas, Lucia and Roxy.



The other dogs needed a little persuading that the canine visitors were legit.



A second task satisfactorily completed was the installation of a lamp over Jonesy's make-up dresser. There were no handy sockets as the closest ones had been taken over by the air conditioning unit. The challenge was to run an invisible wire through the built-in cupboards from the far end of the room - quite tricky as the timber carcass inside the exterior frame meant drilling through 4 inches of timber. Jones held up the end of the vacuum cleaner to suck up the sawdust.


Guess who's back!
Thursday evening brought a 30 minute downpour, the sort of rain - Jonesy said - that we used to get back in the good old days. I haven't checked the rain gauge yet but I shared her sentiments. We are nearing the end of the rainy season and there still isn't a drop of water in the Algibre.