Landlord’s wife, café chats, fresh cream, and pears
The landlord’s second “wife” was seen sweeping outside my front door for the first time in eighteen months. With the heavy rains last week, we had a lot of topsoil and leaves run down the concrete path on the side of our apartment, part of a double-storey house, the second floor of which is occupied by my landlord. That the woman was sweeping is a source of mild amusement, really. I normally do it, and have done so for the last four years. My focus must have been elsewhere – and that fact is a source of joy!
I went late this afternoon to collect my strimmer from the villa where I have a gardening job. I have some work to do elsewhere. Once I had loaded it into the car, I popped into my favourite café for an espresso. The simple pleasure of sitting down with an acquaintance already in situ on the café balcony, and enjoying the strongish wind and marvellous view while having a bit of a chat was most refreshing indeed. I am still no good at cryptic crosswords. This does not worry me in the least.
I felt good today because I woke up when I had had enough sleep – and not a minute before. I have had a punishing schedule since before Christmas, so this was a rare pleasure. I am happy at the possibility of achieving to a stricter, more regular schedule, with plenty of sleep.
After five years in Portugal I finally found ordinary fresh cream yesterday; the kind that thickens when you whip it. Today, we had chopped up pears with the skins on and whipped cream for a mid-afternoon snack. There seems to be a glut of pears at the moment. My favourite fruit. Tonight I shall indulge in what our Swedish friends in Zimbabwe used often to serve after lazy weekend lunches: cheese and biscuits, and pear.