Letter from Espargal: 30 August 2019

The sun has risen on the last week in August. It's been busy with lots of pre-holiday little things that don't really deserve mention in an award-winning cutting-edge blog. The philosopher R S Cratcher advises one to cut to the quick. This week it's more a case of the slow than the quick, plus a few of the usual pictures.


SQUINTY AND BRAVE-HEART AT LEISURE
I'll work backwards. On Sunday we are taking ourselves for a nine day, beast-free spa-hotel break. I've taken our suitcases down from the cupboard and done my preliminary packing. I prepare a detailed list of "to takes", ticking off each item as it is packed, having too often discovered that my iPad or phone charger had been left at home.


CLEANING RUSS'S EARS
After much reviewing on Tripadvisor, we made reservations at three hotels in the north of Portugal, where most of the country's thermal baths are located.


2018: NANCY & BRIAN WITH BARBARA AT ARMENIO'S MUSEUM
In our absence, Valapena affairs will be conducted by our house sitters, Nancy and Brian, who arrive later today (Friday). They are former NBC colleagues of Barbara whose first house sitting stint last year was applauded by the beasts.


JOHAN REUNITED WITH HIS DOG
They will miss Jack, who returned to his master yesterday. The dog saw Johan striding towards the gate and could hardly contain his joy. There was little doubt where his true affection lay. We will miss Jack too. He's quite a guy, even though he's not into cats. 


SEEN IT ALL BEFORE
Wednesday a new cat flap arrived from Amazon to replace the one that Barri destroyed trying to get out of the house one afternoon. That's Barri on the couch. Also Wednesday the window cleaners came. We have a lot of windows and glass sliding doors that got messed up when Nelson power-washed the house prior to painting it. Now they're sparkling once again. That's the way Jones likes them. I told the window cleaners that if ever they formed a company, I wanted shares in it.



All this excitement means that I've fallen behind on collecting carobs. Mini and Jones have continued their efforts. Not that I've been (completely) idle. I have spent long hours on the phone and computer trying to resolve access problems to a couple of key institutions, as well as chasing overdue suppliers of one sort and another. Which reminds me. Seems that one of the French guys staying in Dina's house is going to marry her guardian's granddaughter and that all is above board.


SEA SQUILL AMONG THE ROCKS
At least one of them is sleeping on the flat roof of the house. It's certainly warm enough to do so comfortably. Our temperatures range between the lower 20s and lower 30s. By our standards that's a cool summer although not cool enough to cancel Russ's weekly coat-clip. The weather looks set to stay that way for our house sitters. Up north, temps are slightly lower - ideal for touring. I hope those hotels have heated pools. Ours remains at a delightful 30*.


AIMING FOR THE SUCCULENTS BEHIND THE POOL
Tuesday my sciatic leg felt a lot better. Something in my spine clicked and the tension eased. It felt as though someone had taken a cramp off my leg. Wednesday and Thursday it still felt much better. Long may it last. 


STILL LIFE
Ahead of the arrival of our house sitters, I've been sweeping cobbles, steps and paths. We have thousands of cobbles along with dozens of steps and paths. Once swept, they look great until the wind comes along and scatters leaves every which way. I shall take a picture or two to show the house sitters how good they looked, just in case.



Another chore was to oil our wooden furniture. It certainly looks better for my efforts. The fact is that Jones likes to have the house and its contents absolutely gleaming for the arrival of guests.


CICADA ON THE BRANCH
When I was working with Slavic in the dell last Saturday, he pointed out the cicada that was serenading us from a branch just above our heads. The insect didn't seem at all bothered by our activities. We are creating a nook under the trees, to take a bench and table, the ideal thing for a reflective half hour over a sun-downer. We plan to complete it tomorrow (Saturday). In fact, there's a lot of things we plan to do on Saturday. Enough said. No blog next week.


WE'LL MEET AGAIN SOME SUNNY DAY

Letter from Espargal: 23 August 2019

A WEEK'S WORK
There is something about collecting carobs that satisfies the soul. It's as though some ancient string of DNA prompts the dopamine neurotransmitters to give the brain a generous shot of feel-good for a job well done. In truth, the satisfaction more often comes after the event as the worker surveys the day's haul rather than during the sweaty, dusty, prickly business of actually gathering the beans.



As you can see from the circled carob trees, meticulously tracked by my wife, we have quite a lot of carob picking to do - although nothing like the task on the plantations that belong to local farmers. Some of our trees are still young and ungrafted. Others are huge old giants with hollow trunks. Carob trees tend to produce a good crop every second year. This year they've been hit by drought.



It's a business that has already occupied the pair of us for long hours, hers longer than mine, and will require many more before we're done. No, she is not pushing the tractor up the hill; she is ensuring that the rearmost tubs don't fall off during the particularly steep ascent that leads up from the bottom field to the Roman road. That's the track that winds up past the house to the gates where our farmer neighbour will be delighted to receive them.



After such exertions I reward myself with a non-alcoholic beer and a generous siesta in my recliner. (To be sure I reward myself with a siesta regardless.) At least I try to, for the dogs often exploit the opportunity for a huggle. Jack particularly enjoys a man-to-man huggle. I suppose that should be a dog to man huggle, a bromance across the species.



It can be difficult to refuse Jack's advances because he is as big as he is insistent. His affections can prove a bit overpowering. He's a lovely guy if somewhat demanding, both gentle and welcoming to visitors in spite of a ferocious mien. (Few strangers beholding him would enter the gates.) The dog is due to return to his master next week. We shall miss him. Not that Dearheart will shed any tears.



Mini is more of a wet kisser than a huggler. As I point out to Jones, it saves on water. And it's nice to know that senescence has not altogether atrophied one's appeal. Note, while you are at it, the three zappers lined up securely on the balustrade. They are fastened with string to prevent them falling to the living room. The first controls the channels, the second the DVD player and the third the new TV set.


JONES MOON
This past fortnight, after the nightly news,  I have frequently sat back in my recliner to watch a movie. As the audio (yells, sirens and shots) disturbs Jones who is trying to sleep on the far side of the bedroom door, I have invested in a pair of blue-tooth earphones to keep the sound to myself. They work perfectly. I reflected as I watched Atomic Blonde (for the second time) that its karate-kicking, guns-blazing heroine, Charlize Theron, (like Cate Blanchett) has one of those rare plastic faces that assist her to meld into her character - and a lot more besides.



Among the movies I watched was Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri - a sobering film if ever I saw one and most definitely not family viewing. But I came to understand why Frances McDormand won an Oscar for her role. Equally gripping and with a similar theme was In The Heat of the Night that the Beeb put on one late evening. As the philosopher, Reginald Slickin, points out, one's prejudices stick by one through thick and thin.


TREAT TIME
Wednesday morning I was summoned away from the carobs by a neighbour who was concerned about events next door and wanted moral support. Three estrangeiros had entered the adjacent long-empty cottage and were busy cleaning up.



The cottage was once home to Dina, a disabled ward of the state who is now cared for in the Benafim retirement home. An elderly, slightly battered French car parked outside spoke to the nationality of the visitors and hinted at their circumstances.



Conversations ensued between me, the neighbour, the estrangeiros and the parish authorities. After some inconclusive ado, we left it to the parish to sort matters out. The car was parked outside again on Thursday so clearly the French have not been evicted (yet?).



Thursday morning we hung more pictures on the living room picture wall. In order to do this, I had to drill holes in the wall. Jones hates having holes drilled in her walls but she acknowledges that the sticky hooks she prefers tend to come adrift along with the pictures they are supporting. So holes it was. She stood by the dust pan while I drilled. All pictures were carefully levelled to avoid any disputes.



Thursday afternoon Natasha came to work. Jones left her a note asking her to dust off books on the patio outside but Natasha misread it and mopped the upstairs floor instead. Barbara had a doctor's handwriting, she informed me. To be sure, it can sometimes be a little spidery.


GIFT FROM NEIGHBOUR NIKKI AT A JONES SOCIABLE DO
We have been more than usually sociable. Perhaps I should rephrase that to say that I have been more than usually sociable. One of the burdens my sociable wife bears is my frequent reluctance to meet what she considers to be our social obligations. Any such obligations weigh lightly upon me. I am content in her company and that of the beasts, birds and bees, spiced with occasional conversations over a meal or across the gate. Why threaten such harmony by going out?


TONY AND ANNETTE VISIT
In years past, as she points out, we attended numerous fetes and festas, supported the local orchestra and were regular visitors to the cinema. No longer! The use of mobile phones during movies and concerts drove me out before it drove me mad.  Bouts of sciatica haven't helped to energise me. But I recognise the dangers of becoming a recluse and am resigned to sacrificing myself to society's expectations -  if I can find time between collecting carobs, watering the garden and pondering the meaning of life.

Letter from Espargal: 16 August 2019

One place to start this week might be with our (half-day a week) assistants, Natasha and Slavic. Natasha is still car-less following her recent accident. On Wednesday she arrived with Slavic. While she busied herself about the house, he (and I?) built steps leading down into an area that we call the gorge, replacing the steep and overgrown path that I negotiated in better days. My part in the project was to ferry down materials on the tractor.



We alerted both workers on arrival to the disappearance several days earlier of Jones's light-weight spectacles, an item that we had already spent hours searching for (not for the first time). As the specs are just lenses supported with bits of wire, they are semi-invisible.


THOSE SPECS!
Jones, who has another heavier pair, wasn't sure whether they had dropped off her head while she was collecting carobs. In the event, Natasha found them lying on a carpet beside the sofa where Jones had been cleaning Russ's ears.



Natasha and I continued planning her December trip to Tokyo where her son Alex is to compete in a gymnastics competition.


OLEANDER WITH A SINGLE BLOOM
I continue to see Jodi the physio at least once a week. As well as practising in her consulting room, Jodi makes a number of home visits to assist immobile patients. On one of these visits this week, she was involved in head-on collision. A young fellow (wife clutching baby on her lap) had come around a blind corner on a narrow dirt road too fast. All concerned - especially the baby - were very lucky to escape injury.


GARDEN SCENE
As you may have learned from your own media, Portugal is in the midst of a bitter fuel delivery strike with accusations from the parties involved flying in all directions. Most service stations ran out of diesel last Monday, the first day of the strike. Key service stations have (allegedly) received sufficient supplies to allow motorists a permitted 15 litres each. The queues of vehicles outside such stations are not inviting. Nor are those beside service stations on the Spanish side of the border to which the Portuguese have flocked. I'm down to half a tank with 25 litres in reserve in Casa Nada. Fingers crossed that it's settled soon.


SEA SQUILL, AUTUMN'S HARBINGER
The heavy winds that tore at the garden early in the week have died down and the cool spell has come to an end. Temperatures are back into the lower 30s. Although that's hotter than I like it, the pool has warmed up nicely in response. We put on the pool pump after lunch to circulate the water ahead of late afternoon dips.


BJ EVENING GARDEN
Otherwise one is faced with bath temperatures on the surface (below the bubble-wrap pool-warmer) with decidedly chillier waters below - not a comfortable combination. Jones breaststrokes energetically back and forth across the 4.6m diameter of the pool. I engage in a series of (hopefully anti-sciatic) exercises. I managed to sit down for a restaurant meal one evening, a definite advance.


PLUMBAGO HEDGE
Given the heat, I am grateful to have the benefit of the air conditioning units that we've had installed in both the bedroom and the study. The supplier recommended Daikin units for their efficiency and quiet functioning, benefits that came at a premium. But I'm pleased that we opted for them. Their background hum is barely discernible and the comfort factor is decidedly business class, whether in the study in the afternoons or the bedroom at night. As ever, when Jones is warm, I'm hot. And when I'm comfortable, she's cold.


WATERING DUTIES
Thursday - a public holiday, the feast of the Assumption - we visited Gambelas hospital to sort out queries in the account following my stays there. For once we found parking right beside the gate and nary a soul in reception as the consultation suites were closed for the holiday. Happily a clerk on the internment desk was able to resolve matters to our satisfacation.



To our regret, a recent confrontation between Jack and Dearheart has totally freaked out the cat. She either spends her days hiding in a capacious bedroom cupboard or flees outside and has to be enticed back in late at night. It's a situation that we just have to live with until Jack returns to his master at the end of the month.


OUR PLUMS
Our farmer neighbour continues to bring us embarrassingly large quantities of fruits that he says would otherwise just rot on the ground. Our neighbours have benefited as much as we have. For our part, we were able to hand over a substantial tractor load of carobs that Jones and I spent much of the week harvesting. He was delighted. It's a brilliant understanding.


MORE CAT SHADOWS
On the spam front I am daily informed of substantial payments that have been made into my (non-existent) Bitcoin account. In some alternative universe I must be an extremely wealthy man. It's obvious to me that my gmail address was added to somebody's spam list years ago. Each time the list gets sold on, I receive a corresponding barrage of spam along with daily invitations to unsubscribe from unlikely entities (sent by individuals seeking to ascertain whether the account is live). Barbara, on the other hand, gets virtually no spam.


JUST FRIENDS

Letter from Espargal: 10 August 2019

At some point last week I threw a short piece of pet-rope high in the air for Jack to fetch. At that moment, a gust of wind carried the rope into the garden. I couldn't see exactly where it had fallen as several bushes obscured my view but I had a pretty good idea. A preliminary search failed to reveal it. So I alerted Jones and we embarked on a meticulous and lengthy search of the agapanthus patch and surrounds. It proved fruitless. The garden had simply swallowed up the rope. Stay tuned.......


PRUNED WILD ROSE
On Saturday Slavic and I set about a number of Barbara's garden projects. The most demanding was cutting back the sprawling wild rose that was pinned to the rear of the shed.  The plant had gone berserk and pulled away a light plank supporting the roof. Getting through it's thorny defences took us the best part of a very prickly hour. The bush didn't take prisoners. But the task was well worth the effort.



Sunday morning brought expat brunch at the Hamburgo. It's one of those events that takes place when enough people are around and enthused. I shall not identify those present. Safe to say they are all retired neighbours or ex-neighbours of the same generation as ourselves, who settled in the village at much the same time as we did.



Sunday evening we went along to the Benafim community centre festa. There's lots of food and loud folksy music for those who either just want to enjoy the show or to take to the dance floor themselves. As ever, the ladies were keener dancers than the men and often resorted to dancing with themselves.



We positioned ourselves behind our usual wall overlooking events, Barbara at a table and I on my feet. (There are still few chairs that get along with my bottom.) We paid €5 each for generous helpings of chicken and rice and simply soaked up the scene. I am always struck by the universal sobriety of those present in spite of the inexpensive beer, wine and spirits on offer. There's a real community feel to proceedings.


A NEW TV SET IN THE STUDY
Monday we went to look for a TV set to replace our old upstairs set. In particular I wanted a smart TV with HDMI ports in order to link it to the DVD player that has been plugged into the downstairs TV (where we seldom watch movies). My intention was to move the DVD player upstairs into the study where I tend to recline in front of the TV at night before retiring. Barbara is an early bird, I'm not.


ARTY MIRROR IMAGE
(If you are familiar with RCA, Scart, USB, optical and HDMI fittings, you will know about the complexities of persuading devices to talk to one another.) We found what we wanted at  specialist dealers in Almancil who promised to deliver it the following morning - and were as good as their word.


HOYA
Also on Monday we received a message from Natasha to say that she might arrive late for work the following day because she had been involved in an accident. She wasn't injured but for the moment she is without a car unless she can borrow from friends.



Worse news came from Vitor, the village mechanic, who said that he was unable to carry out a car service. He had trapped the forefinger of his left hand in a spring-loaded device that had severely injured it. He was rushed to hospital where the finger was amputated at the first joint. So he's off work and at home on sick leave for the rest of the month. We dropped in to express our sympathies.



Back to the missing piece of rope: It was several days after it went awol that I went out on to the upstairs patio to pin back the shutters. I glanced down at the garden and there it was on top of a topiaried tree, completely invisible from below?  I summoned Jones to see where it had got to. (It makes me think of my wife who has the knack of disappearing completely for five minutes in a supermarket before suddenly re-atomising beside one or other shelf.)



Weren't we silly not to think of it?



This scaly memento was left at the foot of a rockery just beyond the formal garden by some serpentine visitor. The wearer must have been quite impressive. We were pleased not to have been around when it was shed.



There's not much to be said about the rest of the week apart perhaps from my continuing search for a better-fitting o-ring to prevent the pool pump filter from leaking. We spend an hour or so a day picking carobs. As usual, Jones continues to walk the dogs - those that will go with her. Russ sometimes ducks out in the mornings. Only Jack and Mini tend to join her in the afternoon. The rest prefer the cool of the house.



I water the garden or continue with our endless repairs of cushions and covers. Note the Gucci stitching on the cushion cover and the green ribbon trim along the rat-nibbled deck-chair canvas. Jack was nearly deprived of upper class rights after a confrontation with Dearheart in the bedroom. As we didn't know who had started it (and the penalty would have been impossible to effect), we let the pair of them off with a warning.