Monday, 23rd July

David made me ring Luis. Oh, how I hate ringing Louis, I tell him, which he already knows. Eventually though, when I have been totally cornered with not an excuse left, I do ring him. ‘There is no point,’ I am still muttering, ‘he will just promise to come any old time and he never does. It doesn’t mean anything. And anyway, what can I say to him this time that I didn’t say on Friday, or Wednesday before that or Monday before that.’ But I ring him anyway.
‘Hello Luis, how are you?’
‘I’m fine thanks, how are you?’
‘Fine. Erm, Luis, when do you think you are coming?’ There is no point in thinking up some long lead in which I will then have to mentally translate.
‘I’m here actually, on the drive, I have just arrived.’
Shock horror and he is as well, just like the Genie of the Lamp, and Louis would just about fit into a lamp at around 5ft tall. And he promises to be back this afternoon (tomorrow at latest) now he has seen what is required and start the latest round of works on the drive.

Go up to farm above us as we haven’t seen them to talk to for a couple of weeks now. We need to do our good neighbour bit which in our case is mainly just making the effort to have a chat. We meet Justo walking along with a wheelbarrow full of huge calabazas (pumpkins) and he offers us one. Oh, he’s got loads, he says so we take up one that is something like the size of a small child, well, baby at least. Would we like some onions… no we say, we are still OK for onions from the last time …. potatoes maybe …… no, still OK for potatoes, we tell him. Well, he says, as soon as we need any, all we need to do is ask. ‘You know that,’ he says, which makes me feel so looked after.
But it is a lovely hot day today with an impeccably blue sky forming the most amazing backdrop for the mountains and we cannot but help discuss the weather. Almost too late, we remember that hot days for a farmer are not usually so great. Working outside in the relentless heat is so tiring and we move into the shade to talk. He takes a puff from the large cigar jammed in between his only slightly brown teeth and we try to focus on just his left eye, as he is blind in the right.

Most of our conversations seem completely disjointed and Justo quickly leaps onto the subject of forest fires which are a constant threat. He tells us that 28 years ago there was a fire so immense that the whole of the north was ablaze. ‘There was just no greenery for months to come and we had to buy sacks of grain for the animals,’ he tells us. We are fairly amazed by this as it was something we had never considered that this panoramic vista of mountain greenery could ever have been totally destroyed. Although we were here when there was a fairly large fire 2 years ago and we watched the helicopters in the distance dropping water bombs over it. That lasted 5 days and there have been many other small ones since.
We tell Justo that we are going to say Hello to Carmen who, he tells us, is in the orchard. At this, Carmen emerges, blue floppy cloth hat pulled down over her ears and her dyed red hair poking out. ‘Café?’ she wants to know. Carmen never uses 5 words when she can use one. ‘Papas?’ No, sorry we don’t really want a coffee or potatoes just now. But she is keen to discuss how well her grandchild, Claudia, is doing at sailing. She has probably been doing it for nearly 2 years now and is starting to get a good collection of trophies already. ‘1st prize, 2nd and a 3rd’ Carmen tells us, and then a little sadly that she doesn’t get to see so much of her these days.
As we return down the donkey track to the house, we see the meter reader man. He is new and doesn’t know where it is, or rather they are as we have two meters for water and two for electricity now that we have had the supply split up for the two houses. Where does this path go? He wants to know, is it to another house. We laugh a little and say that it doesn’t go anywhere else, it is just our own little cobbled street. We direct him up the donkey track to where Julio lives, in between us and Carmen and Justo at the farm.

10.00 pm. Louis rang to say he couldn’t come today after all, which we had sort of guessed. Should hopefully be around 11 or 12 tomorrow when he comes.