Many thanks to our great friend (and high-minded painter) Andy Baird, who both conceived and jump started this attempt to contemporaneously record at least some of the eventings of one move abroad. Regarding content, the narrower column on the left is the supposedly more timeless and reference stuff; ongoing entries are in the larger-width column on the right of the script below - following the (red)


by-line below. The plan is for these at least to be augmented over time.

It should also follow, therefore, that the most recently added post will always be at the top of this right-hand column; so if you want to get a flavour from earlier times, scroll and start NEARER TO or EVEN AT THE BOTTOM (only, please, please if you chose this option, allow yourself a series of snack-breaks; it can be repetitive, and boredom is guaranteed to increase with intensity of effort!)- but ANY comments are not only also welcomed ->but positively encouraged

Remember this folks ......

Remember this folks ......

Monday, February 22, 2010

24 hours later, however;

This morning we woke up after our latest late night watching the Curlies in Canada, to find two men toiling away outside the kitchen window.
This was actually our neighbour (acting as labourer) and his mate, `our` jolly, retired, but remarkably active builder, the two having started out –if remotely as per normal, presumably at dusk- to make good their promise (& my contract) of paving both the main drive down to Bill and a sitting-out area at the back.

That was the more pleasant surprise, but half an hour later they were trudging their weary-looking ways back UP the drive, having been thoroughly soaked, and I suspect not for the first time.
It has been pretty well raining off and on all day since, even though we were committed (as it turned out, fortunately) to be away until after lunch.

It’s now gone 8 pm; they have long since packed up and left ; it’s dark, raining, and G & I are preparing to tune in again to see if them canny Scots can progress to the semis (a four-team `guddle` experience, I think Rona Martin would call it).

Makes the point though that, at last, life –along with the buds on most of our trees- is beginning to re-emerge in a more familiar format. This morning, we troddled along to the exhaust man (they’re called “ess-cap-EEs” in Portuguese) after our car began to make rather loud belching noises; HE scraped cut and welded happily away for half an hour or more, I think customised and patched, and charged us 12Euros, without once either cussing or suggesting a new pipe. We then proceeded (quietly) in a Southerly direction to Leiria, your Honour, where we paid a successful first visit to Staples (the office supplies people), and Geraldine negotiated a –wait for it- self-healing cutting mat  with not one but two totally non-English speaking sales assistants. Well done her. After the grocery top-up call (which included a bottle each of LBV AND a full Vintage Port) we managed to stop for lunch before returning to the `workers`. Well, we did need the groceries.

Here’s hoping this is the jump-start I needed; little jobs have been piling up for what seems like months. And we still have to clinch that semi-final!

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