This has been a busy week. A starting point would be Benafim's monthly mini-street market at the weekend. The chatter of the crowds as we browsed the stalls was suddenly interrupted by a blast of deafening music - I clutched my ears - to the accompaniment of which a bevy of muscular maidens began performing synchronised exercises in the street. Although the crowd enjoyed the show, any prizes would have been for enthusiasm or, possibly, for effort.
From an elderly resident of the parish retirement home I bought - at 20 cents a time - three badges reading (in Portuguese) 8 March, Women's Day, which I pinned to my jacket as an upstanding citizen. (It would seem that men do not yet have a day to call their own.) I noted later that several "pro-women's rights" demonstrations in less salubrious parts of the world had run into trouble with macho males. Reform never came easily!
Sunday was sociable. We met neighbours at the Hamburgo both for brunch and for supper. Two of them reported remarkable experiences with the communications app, WhatApp, experiences that no amount of googling explained. One neighbour found that part of a conversation was added as text to a WhatsApp message; that's to say that the audio had some how been recorded and turned into text. Another reported that WhatsApp had sent out an entirely spurious message to a contact. Scary stuff! I use Kaspersky on my phone. I've also downloaded it on to Barbara's.
WOODCOCK ORCHID
Monday brought the usual English lesson. Much of it turned on the spread of the corona-virus in Portugal. The government has since announced the closure of schools and a host of other restrictions on institutions, businesses and events from this weekend. A flood of tourist cancellations has left hoteliers in the Algarve, as elsewhere, glum.
Tuesday we drove 40 minutes to the holiday village of Guia, where our accountants are based. Each year I carefully prepare our returns as the Portuguese taxman is not to be trifled with. When we first arrived here, long queues of folder-clutchers used to surround the Loule tax office in the period leading to submission deadlines. These days, only online submissions are accepted.
Tuesday night I had a shock when I sat down to watch the next episode of House of Cards, only to find that the previous episode had been the last. While I haven't exactly been addicted, I confess to having watched one or two episodes most days. The final episode was more reminiscent of deadly Latin American politics than Washington's. Perhaps, with so many bodies strewn about, it was the moment to call time on the series.
COMPLICATED!
Wednesday we took a widowed neighbour to Loule for meetings - hers and ours - with a lawyer. Following the completion of Casa Nada's registration, I have spent hours collating our property files - mainly just sections of a field - with all the documents and correspondence pertaining to each. At a minimum we are talking about the deed of purchase and the certificates relating to registration, local taxes, GPS points and a house's energy efficiency.
Thursday Slavic and I burned off the cuttings that remained from the tree pruning earlier in the year. I first sought the required permission from the "bombeiros" to light fires on the property. As the morning was overcast and windless, they were happy to give me the go-ahead. At the same time I noticed that they now carefully record the caller's identity as well as location and contacts, and they specify a deadline for burning before assigning one a reference number.
As Slavic was clearing, he came across this small patch of wild tulips half concealed in the bushes. And, if you look carefully, you will spot a couple of mirror orchids lower centre. Such floral trifles bring us a measure of delight in inverse proportion to their size. Slavic has also begun our annual strimming exercise, taking as much care as possible to leave interspersed flowers intact.
While the pair of us occupy ourselves outside, Barbara takes the opportunity to catch up on chores inside. Although Natasha cleans the ground floor once a week, Barbara takes it upon herself to do the upper floor, where she is pictured (trying to re-thread my Chinese-shop joggers). That's the jacuzzi cover visible through the glass door on the left. I rather liked the photo.
And this one too. I have just cleared today's (25) spam messages from my emails. They were divided more or less equally between pleas for support from US Republicans, ladies advertising genital services, West African scammers, imaginary Bitcoin payments and "protective" corona-virus masks. Speaking of which, I was briefly fooled by the Covid-19 advice hoax purporting to come from "Stanford Health Care" - brilliantly conceived and most persuasive!
Jones is less concerned with spam than with watching for the arrival of the full moon.
And doing her level best to photograph that elusive orb with our now-it's-in-focus, now-it-isn't camera. Okay, if you look really carefully, you may be able to see that moon-lander thingy still squatting in the sea of tranquillity.
We have renamed the intended garden jacuzzi-circle as the Circle of Contemplation. Jonesy says it now needs a bench to seat contemplatives. I'm sure we can find one.
Sufficient unto the week.
No comments:
Post a Comment