WAGS 2023 06 14: Another Blogger At Last

 

First, the Basic Facts of the Walk

The Starters

                                             JohnH, Yves, Ingrid, and the Leader, Hazel.

The Track and the Statistics

The Lunch

At Café Norinha, not exactly fast food but , when it came, very satisfying. Ingrid went home lunchless to her mountain fastness, but we were joined by Maria and Rod. Chris and Rachel sent their apologies "Car troubles.. it would be a long drive."  (And I thought that they were safari experts! )

And that´s was it, until the following description of the morning´s events arrived, in the inimitable style of our in-house photographer, Yves. Published here unedited, save for one or two explanatory footnotes. Over now to Yves. 

 

As some perspicacious person observed some time ago: ‘It had to happen some day…” 

We are not discussing here media-shattering events of Trumpian proportions, Johnsonian even, let alone the much more relevant –to some- fall-out of Sturgeonian malpractice, alleged… 

Neither are we gawping at the many young ladies weeping disconsolately around Young Berlusconi’s catafalque, perhaps we should? He did… For now at least Macron is also safe from sharpish barbs aimed by serried ranks of impartial journalists and bloggers alike. 

No, we are contemplating the inexorable decline in WAGS actually punishing trails with their well-travelled boots. “Oh dear, how sad, never mind.” Can be heard occasionally, even. 

Fear not Walkers, Countrymen, Wags and All: the tide, like the times, she is a-changing! 

Only yesterday, a motley collection of souls braved the early-summer midday sun, and not one Englishman in sight!

Faces not seen in such august circles re-appeared to raise smiles and grumps in equal proportions as they dipped in and out of orange groves to check that the trees were indeed still there after all that time.

(Alas, not all trees were still there; this once magnificent nespra tree

is now reduced to a pile of dead wood.)

Vandalism? Necessity? Who knows?

Indeed, after one such foray, a returnee took a left turn at the 43^rd tree when that should have been a right turn at the 29^th! (i.e.Yves got lost again.) That grossly absent-minded error earned the wretched soul a partly deserved dressing down; ‘plus ça change et plus c’est la même chose…’ Decency restored and fully dressed again, the miscreant followed the group at a guilty and respectful distance back to the starting point to partake of very welcome cool water.

 

En route, the troop had met with a young lady bearing fruit and another young lady baring teeth in the most glorious smile this side of an orthodontist’s parlour!

The First Young lady

In fact, Yves had already met this first young lady some years earlier (03.06.2020 to be exact)

 

The strawberries so kindly offered by the first young lady were deliciously juicy and sweet with a very subtle hint of tartness, presaging their final destination? We will never know: they were ‘disappeared’ with great relish and despatch!

Lok, free strawberries.

The other young lady hailed from Tavira and she was probably one the best walking and talking advert for that little-known place, somewhere East of our Eden… She and her travelling companion were Jehovah’s Witnesses drumming up support for some forthcoming gathering, held somewhere lost in translation. Dazzled as the Walkers were by her smile, they even failed to ask for her telephone number!  I hasten to add that it would have been purely with the aim of meeting her again at the congress, or at the bar thereof, at least. (They also failed to take her picture but I am sure Yves will recognise her again.) 

Some lady-walkers were impressed by the size and colour of some plums on a trail-side tree; they attempt to spare distress on the immature damsels –a variety of plum, apparently- but then again, we will never know: young damsels are well known for keeping secrets from older folks. ( Damsels.? I think he means damsons.)

 

Yves´ standing stone is still standing

A brief pause in the shade

All that remained to do was to reach the intended eatery in one piece and in short order: despite some alarming driving displays from excitable drivers returning from the Autodromo perhaps, we settled for a lengthy wait. Normal service was resumed in the best WAGS tradition and everything was well, even if some were considerably older for the wait…

A good grill

and some good sardines, as the remains testify

The last salient point of the day will attract approving and congratulatory nods from étiquette cognoscenti as they observe how daintily some walker sips from a bottle of whatever -smelling faintly of vodka, with his pinky duly erected: class always shines through!

 

A bientôt? 

 

PS: the dead wasp –hornet?- was in front of a fruit-seller’s display and she did not dare pick up the coin nearby; one wonders why.

Thanks to Hazel and Yves for the photos, and thanks to Yves for the report.... first of many, I hope. Now, after last week´s Sonia Snell episode, another Odd Ode from Cyril Fletcher to close.