I’m sorry, it’s been more than a year, which is pretty poor in terms of contact even by my standards. It’s why I only have friends who are as low maintenance as I am. I should have said that the main reason that I stopped sharing our nonsense here in this blog was that I was sharing it elsewhere; in Standard Issue magazine, to be precise. Is that infidelity? Perhaps. If so, I’m sorry, but that fabulous magazine is no more and so now I’m back. That’s a bit shitty now I think about it: I’m back for you because the much more important people no longer want me. Don’t take it personally. I thought about you every day (I didn’t). If you want to read what I’ve been up to, check out the Standard Issue link above, it’s all there.
Anyway, I’m here now and stuff has happened. We have moved! We no longer stalk geckos in the Algarve, now we stalk mongooses (it’s not mongeese – I looked it up. Mongoose and goose have different linguistic origins, actually) in Central Portugal.
I won’t bore you with all the details but in brief we decided to work in France over the summer as we found the Algarve too hot. Keith got a job as bicycle mechanic, we both got qualified as bicycle mechanics and First Aiders and then the whole project he was due to work for collapsed, so we drove 5 hours north in Portugal and bought a house. Because. We are now qualified bicycle mechanics who live up the steepest hill known to anyone with no one stupid enough to cycle anywhere apart from us.
So, now we live in the middle of a forest in 3 hectares of land – that’s 28 times larger than our Algarve plot – in a granite, totally off-grid house (solar, mountain water and compost toilet) with a couple of stretches of the Mondego River thrown in. We are 3km down an off-road dirt track and require a 4×4 to reach our house up a 1:2.75 (20 degrees) slope, which we now own. For information: Owning a 4×4 has not made Keith any more manly, although I’m sure he thinks it has, which is all that matters. I certainly feel more manly. My ankles are killing me and we’ve only been here 2 months. Pushing a wheelbarrow full of mud up that slope is only a very special person’s type of fun (we love it). I now have biceps, which may explain the manliness.
Our nearest cities are Coimbra and Viseu neither of which you will have heard of unless you are familiar with Portuguese geography, but both of which you should have heard of because they are both fabulous and entirely untouched by hen parties and Costa.
We moved away from the Algarve because of the heat or the summer meaning that we were more inactive than we wanted to be, wanting more land to keep ourselves amused, physically knackered and alive in my case (see About – PKD is kept somewhat at bay by good health and managing blood pressure), and the potential for some future income in the form of tourist accommodation, which our Algarve house didn’t have. That’s right – one day you can come and stay with us in our humble abode but don’t expect us to be interesting, because we’re not. We are some way from the brand launch of our boutique hotel yet due to our single compost toilet perched halfway up the garden hardly being anyone’s idea of ‘en-suite’ unless you plan to sleep in it. We are undoubtedly ‘eco-friendly’ and ‘green’ given that everything that goes in that toilet will one day end up aiding the growth of a lettuce that we’ll serve our guests for dinner making sure that we share the provenance of their hor d’oeuvres just at the point that the first mouthful has reached their lips. Circle of life ‘n’ all that.
Please stick around. Keith can have 28 times more near fatal accidents with all this land. And you wouldn’t want to miss that now, would you?