Man Goes To Portugal

Monty meets the farm for the first time The Farmhouse A view from the farm Another view from the farm Harry takes to wearing wellies on dog walks to avoid getting bitten (by insects) You've been framed.  Mrs Fatima supplies materials and asks Harry to make mosquito screens for the windows Installation of one of the mosquito screens A praying mantis reciting Ave Maria in Portuguese The view from Monty's hospital bed Sunset one misty evening Harry enjoys the free Wi-Fi in Almodôvar's square perhaps a little too much Baa!  I want to bite you too Another pretty door, Ourique Charming Ourique Wonky Ourique Monty agrees to take an extra passenger back from Ourique Caixa 276 Monty's cousin, back wheel once removed Festivities in Santa Clara-a-Nova It's just gone seven (in the afternoon) and Harry and Ichiro are both asleep.  They seem to like keeping each other up at night, Ichiro panting as though he is hot (he is not, it's hotter now than overnight and he is breathin...

A nearby freshwater well with hand-pump, Mrs Fatima and a local German Shepherd Mrs Fatima powers the pump Let me out.  I want to see what's going on (and bite the German Shepherd!) Terrifying dog (Rafeiro Alentejano) asks us to leave the area A beautiful old door in Almodôvar The fountain in the small square, Almodôvar Danger of Death Spearmint Valley Some of the original cobbles exposed   Harry prepares a prickly pear with the van key Harry and I consume the prickly pear Long shadows as we return to Mrs Fatima's from an evening dog walk Planted cork trees, some harvested this year I am dreading winter.  Inland, away from the coast, an increasingly familiar cycle repeats every twenty-four hours.  The morning air is cool––even cold––in the shade with blocks of sunlight providing a welcome glow.  Then an almost-bearable heat ratchets up until late afternoon before it gives way again to a fresh, perfect evening temperature after sunset.  Come winter, the...

Bom dia – Good morning! Senhora Fatima collecting figs Behold... glass! Monty back on the road There's nothing very funny about death.  Hannibal had pulled the corners of his mouth down and shaken his bald head when he had taken a look at Sebastian and Fonsequinha a couple of days ago.  Of the latter he'd said, "he needs a shot of amoxicillin.  It'll set you back about eighty euros.  It's not worth it."  Neither lamb had had colostrum, the magical 'first milk' that newborn mammals normally get.  To further limit their chances of survival, there is some kind of infection running rife amongst the herd at the moment killing mothers and lambs.  Sebastian didn't make it to three days old and Fonsequinha was under a week when he died yesterday.  The lamb that was here before we arrived, Pirata, did get colostrum and a little of his mother's milk before she died.  He continues to grow and bounce around like a crazy Duracell battery.  The younge...