For those regular readers of the WAGS blog who have revelled in the richness and diversity of Paul´s animadversions week by week over the past WAGS season, the APAPS breakfast walk blogs, with their ever-so inevitable and boringly similar photos of bacon, eggs and tomatoes, will come as an anti-climax. Your APAPS blogger cannot possibly hope to match the range of topics covered by Paul. In the month of June alone, when he had a rush of blood to the head or a burst of creative energy, take it as you will, he has ranged from Confucius (on walking companions) to Francis Bacon (on breakfasts – Bacon on bacon?), from the efficaciousness of Arnica to the sadness of shuttered cafés; he has pondered on the exorbitant cost of SMS messaging and the variety of cross-breeds in the family Equidae, not to mention the variety of pizzas it is possible to squeeze onto a 2 metre span of beechwood. Chinese numerology, Latin quotations, cod philosophy, true philosophy, not to mention the purported benefits to the human brain of the HyperKewl (sic) Tilley hat - it´s all there and more. In case you missed any of it it, click on:-
https://w-a-g-s.blogspot.com/2019/06/wags-05062019-it-seemed-like-good-idea.html
https://w-a-g-s.blogspot.com/2019/06/wags-12062019-nada-de-nada.html
https://w-a-g-s.blogspot.com/2019/06/wags-19062019-back-and-walking.html
https://w-a-g-s.blogspot.com/2019/06/wags-26062019-season-finale-and.html
Anyway, back to the present. Most of last year´s APAPS regulars indicated their interest in continuing these summer morning jaunts, forced drop-outs being Ros who is hors de combat with hip problems and Yves who is training for a male nurse qualification. When the first walk and breakfast menu were announced there were stirrings of interest. One message which your blogger received
“One egg, tomatoes and hot buttered toast, a book of verse and thou, beside me in the wilderness.....please”
certainly made the heart beat that little bit faster.
(Editor´s note: make that "One unbroken egg..".)
And then, on the very morning of the walk, at 2.09 am to be exact, the blogger´s iPhone received confirmation from the Whittles that they would be at the breakfast. (Luckily, said iPhone remains in sleep mode until about 6.30am so that was not a problem.)
Then Leader first to be at Café Prato at 6.37 a.m. for his bica cheia, is immediately greeted with more stuff from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (Edward Fitzgerald translation)
“Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.”
emailed by Paul at 6.50 am and followed up with the query
“Who is the Hunter of the East?”
First, there was one.
Then there were three
Then five.
and then, after some last minute technical adjustments to Janet´s bootlaces,
we had the eight starters.
These next two did not start but, this being a photo specially submitted by Yves to mark the occasion, may be taken as symbolising the envious non-participants watching from afar.
(Copyright Yves Photos)
Which one could be Yves, which one Rod?
At last, we got underway , some obviously being under the misapprehension that the WAGS´ traditional flexibility in observing starting times also applies to APAPS ( it shouldn´t), but we were almost immediately called to a halt for a flowery picture at Encherim Jardim no.2.
In the garden, the collection of village worthies´ chairs was now increased to over 15.
Instinct now made the Leader step on the gas as he decided to divert from the normal path down towards to the canal, but taking this route presented the group with the first challenge of the day which was to clamber over a wall into an orange grove.
Judging from Paul´s photo, Ingrid can´t believe what she has just seen; Maria didn´t climb over the wall - she just kicked a hole through it.
and Janet took full advantage of the breach.
The orange grove was cool and the canal was beautifully still in the morning light.
But it was shortly after this stretch that muttering in the ranks began to be heard. Then Terry A took me aside and had a quiet word in my ear. “You are going far too fast, my lad” or words to that effect. And he was right: I looked at my gizmo and it showed that we had being going at over 5.2 kph! The only solution was to put Paul and Janet at the front to bring things back to normal. We were by then passing along Lingerie Lane but, of the delicate set of ladies underwear that had hung there for the past three years, there is now , alas, no sign. Maybe a charitable lady amongst the APAPS/WAGS group will present a replacement? The conversation then dwelt for sometime on related topics and l learned something new, namely that at English Girls Schools in the years before the swinging sixties (I think), the young ladies wore bloomers (am I correct?) as underwear, voluminous cloth creations with handkerchief pockets in them. Well, I never! We do indeed live and learn. And from this, we moved on to discussion of a newish technique for removing wax from ears with a sort of vacuum cleaner. So engrossing was all this non-stop conversational richesse that I completely missed a small sideways path where I had intended we go and which would have taken us comfortably along the valley floor. Five or ten minutes later it was much less comfortable because we were having to climb steadily uphill, on a steep track which I had not known existed. Honest to truth, Gov! I did not know.
Eventually, and I do mean eventually, we overcame this second challenge of the day and emerged onto the familiar upper level routes where we saw one of the Algarve Way Founders marks.
All that unplanned climbing had certainly slowed us down, all of us, that is, except for TerryA and Jill who continued to race ahead. Bit rich really, the same guy who had cautioned me to slow the pace was now going like the crackers himself. A bit like a cricket umpire warning a bowler against running on the wicket and then himself dancing the Highland Fling on the pitch. (More cricket references to follow later). By the time we had worked our way back down into the valley again and turned towards base, we were running late; we certainly were not going to be able to make it to Retiro dos Pescadores in time for the scheduled 9.30 am breakfast. But luckily Maria was able to make contact with Pescadores via phone with Hazel (non-walking for the time being) and got things re-scheduled.
Towards the end of the walk, TerryA, who naturally had finished ahead of the pack, brought his Mercedes 4wd down the track to pick up two stragglers (who shall be nameless) and we all managed to get to Pescadores by 10.00 am, where Chris, Antje and Hazel were waiting.
Hazel and Maria did their usual great job helping out in the kitchen and the meal was served quickly. Yves being absent, it was Paul who was the first to get his food and, although he got only one egg to start with, it was unbroken so he was happy. There were lashings of bacon and tomatoes, bread toasted and untoasted.
Paul eventually managed to get a second egg and, double happiness, that too was unbroken.
Unbroken egg no.2
In comparison, see how a broken egg lets standards slip.
Myriam, as usual ,risked life and limb to take a group view;
if her photo reaches me, it will be published.
With their usual generosity, our Pescadores hosts provided us with fruit to finish – melons and oranges.
Somehow, the conversation got on to cricket and I found myself explaining to Antje that in a proper cricket match, there are two sets of wickets, each consisting of three stumps, one wicket at each end of the pitch. I think that she had been imagining some sort of rounders or French cricket with only a single wicket. I may have helped her to understand how it is that the bowlers can “throw (her word, not mine) the ball” in alternate overs from each end. I think that I managed to explain clearly the difference between the actual and the metaphorical usages of the word “wicket”, which otherwise could confuse, for example, how it is that one side is out when it loses 10 wickets, when there are only 2 wickets to be seen out there on the pitch (or wicket as it is often known).
The following will bring clarity to those who need it.
Cricket explained.
- You have two sides, one out in the field and one in.
- Each man that’s in the side that’s not in the field goes out and when he’s out comes in and the next man goes out and goes in until he’s out.
- When a man goes out to go in, the men who are out try to get him out, and when he is out he goes in and then the next man in goes out and goes in.
- When the side that`s in are all out, the side that’s out comes in and the side that’s been in goes out and tries to get those coming in out.
- Sometimes there are men still in and not out.
- There are men called umpires who stay out all the time, and they decide when the men who are in are out.
- Depending on the weather and the light, the umpires can also send everybody in, no matter whether they’re in or out.
- When both sides have been in and all the men are out (including those who are not out), then the game is finished.
So that being perfectly clear, next week maybe we can move on to discuss over breakfast the more arcane aspects of the modern game, such as “Net Run Rate”, “Duckworth- Lewis”, “Umpires Call”, or even, for those nostalgic for the old days, “Sticky Wicket”.
Now the Track and the Statistics:
Total distance: 9.60 kms. Total time: 2 hrs 41 mins.
Moving time: 2 hrs 12 mins. Average moving speed: 4.3 kph.
Total ascent: 273 metres. Eggs consumed: 22.
(One assumes that everyone had two eggs.)
And what is the answer to Paul´s early morning question “Who is the Hunter of the East?”
Put your answer in your reply to the next APAPS breakfast email.
To conclude, something to do with the WAGS from stand-in philosopher Pauladev (Aristotle being otherwise detained):-
"WAGS Ethos: I think this points at the Nirvana the WAGS are trying to achieve."
Postscript
Myriam´s photos have now arrived and, as promised, here they are:-
3 comments:
Cricket?
What is that thing you speak of?
A sport it cannot be: the players wear long trews; an entertaining pastime it cannot be either: spectators fall asleep in the shade under trees;an excuse to be away from WaGs it could be but then again most players are young, fit and almost healthy: shouldn't they chase after after-noon tae and crumpet?
Baffled of Algoz, moi!
Great job John, and an excellent if rigorous start to the season.
As a joint pioneer of the largely rhetorical Blog Quiz question, I feel moved to explain and amplify the poser, 'Who is the Hunter of the East?'.
First read the complete text and the allusion is staring you in the face. Khayyam was a prescient futurologist in the same class as Nostradamus. The line could just as easily have read 'And Tang, the Hunter........' Or Chan; Or Wong..... I will leave to your febrile imaginations Khayyam's intention with his euphemism 'Sultans Turret', and the mind boggles at the graphic term 'Noose of Light'.
I was well acquainted with Khayyam's verse long before I came to Portugal, yet I still failed to detect the imminent capture of my Sultan's Turret!
Well written John and good pictures too.
Who is this Hunter, well I think it is Lo.
H Hope
6th July 2019
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