Sources of Joy – Day 51
At some point – I forget when – during my teenage years, my favourite aunt gave me her Parker 51 fountain pen. I see from the Wikipedia reference that it was the “vacumatic” model. It was exactly like the top one pictured there. For many left-handers, fountain pens present a problem. I loved the smooth, well-worn nib of this pen and wrote many a school and university essay with it until one day, my pencil-case fell out of my book bag as I was walking down the road. I realised this about 50 metres later. When I returned to the spot where I dropped it, someone else had already found the pencil-case and decided to keep it – and had disappeared fairly smartly. Had I been more careful, I suppose I might still be writing with it. The pen of my aunt (or, as we say in English, my aunt’s pen) and, indeed, my aunt will forever have a place in my cornucopia of happy memories.
I am happy to report that I remained calm, except for one expletive, despite an incredibly lacklustre Internet connection today, which slowed the pace of my translation work almost to a standstill. Fortunately, these things pass.
It has to be said, though, that I did not relax during my acupuncture session, having recently emerged from the adrenalin rush which always accompanies the click of the “Send” button upon completion of a job.
I did relax afterwards though, when I stopped and greeted the woman who was my landlady for the first five months of my life in Portugal. She has a new pet, who goes by the name of Castigas.
Maria-Alice, on whom the Duracell® bunny must have been modelled, seems to have made a pet of this cockerel. Here, in her charmingly playful way, she is trying to discover if the fowl likes store-bought yoghurt. You cannot see it in this photo, but rather aptly, the words emblazoned on her T-shirt say “LOVE BIRD”. Maria-Alice understands no English, but I gather that her daughter generally explains to her the messages conveyed via her work clothes.
I like this practical, down-to-earth and very hard-working woman enormously. She is my mother’s age. It would be nice if they both spoke the same language. They would get on very well with each other, I think. Maria-Alice and I have a deal. I shall be picking figs with her for the first time, come the height of summer. I am volunteering my labour in exchange for the opportunity to learn the traditional way of drying the figs – and how to stuff them with almonds.
I last picked figs with another old lady about forty years ago, and learned how to make fig jam and fig preserve, but that is another story.
Allison
That elusive pair of jeans 
Say something here!