APAPS 23.6: Sound and Fury, or All Figged Out

 

One of this blog´s guiding principles is that of continuity. In other words , we try if possible to link one blog with its predecessors. Last week, you will possibly remember, we examined that great German invention, the Eierschalensollbruchstellenverur-sacher. Let us just allow our good friend, Piet Smiet, to remind us of how it works.

And we had expressed the hope that one of our more senior APAPS attendees, Paul ( who has a passion for investing in every new gadget under the sun) might invest in this Eierschalensollbruchstellenverur-sacher too.

But we had spoken too soon because, at the end of our latest breakfast, Myriam produce a similar type of gadget which Paul had indeed already invested in.

But, as you can see, the model differs from the one Piet demonstrated because there is not ze metal thing to pull up to ze top. Instead, one has to pull the whole top of the device upwards and then let it go whereupon it springs back of its own accord and hits ze top of ze egg. In other words, Paul´s gadget is spring-loaded or federbelastet.

So Paul´s device is not exactly a

Eierschalensollbruchstellenverur-sacher;

it is instead a

Eierschalenfederbelastetsollbruchstellenverur-sacher.

I am glad to make that clear. Having done so, we can now move quickly on to Yves´ highly imaginative commentary on Wednesday´s outing. I will try to keep editorial interruptions to a minimum, although he did miss out one or two key moments..

Over now to Yves, that teller of tales.

Golf : a time-consuming pursuit enjoyed by folks braving the worst that the weather can throw at them, from searing heat on well-watered ‘greens’ in the Algarve right up to the wilds of Scottish links where horizontal rain penetrates the toughest ’Sou’westers’ in moments!

We are told that golf did originate from somewhere lost in Northern mists: there may be some truth in that legend; after all, throwing stones at ‘Ghosties, ghoulies and long-leggetty beasties’ involved frighteningly close contact –a stone´s-throw, in fact! It was therefore more effective to keep these creatures at bay by using a stick with which to hit the stones: much greater range, see?

The space so gained gave kilt-wearers much more time to reach the safety of a welcoming pub with a fire, sometimes, by which they could dry their ‘Sou’westers’ and swap stories of derring-do with other liars…

Naturally, and with ‘water-of-life’ helping, the stories gained a dynamic of their own and soon the ‘mine’s bigger than yours’ competitive lie-swapping turned into ‘let’s settle this outside’ challenges. And so, with a small dash of imagination and enterprise from the Pub landlords, aka ‘Their ‘Onours’- why, they even provided old leaky tankards into which the stones would be driven with the sticks- and lo! a ‘sport’ was born!

Time went by and the remorseless spreading of the British Empire saw the ‘sport’ take root in the ‘colonies’, just like that other British institution called ‘Cricket’ but that is a closed book to this writer.

Globalisation saw to it that ex-colonials settling in ‘new lands’ domesticated them and the Algarve is now peppered with many well-watered ‘holes’ in quite a number of places: some folks even practise with new-fangled sticks made of metal these days, although they call them ‘woods’ for some obscure reason…

And this is how it came to pass that yesterday, the troop was missing one of its members: he had hurt himself during a demanding training session at the ‘19^th Hole’; we wish him a prompt recovery!

The Starters minus Dennis; Myriam, Yves, Daniela, Maria, Tanja, Dorothy, Hazel, JohnH, Fabrizio, Samantha

The day dawned in a rather uncertain way: a thin cloud cover hid the sun and thankfully kept its potent rays from the Walkers as they made their merry way up the hill from ‘Pescadores’. We soon reached the ‘Bathroom’ but some uncouth ne’er-do-well has stolen the wash-basin, leaving a forlorn pipe jutting limply out…

In the past Maria had been accustomed to sponging her face at this basin - for the benefits of the mountain dew 

but now the basin is gone.

Onwards through the greening-again hills and young eucalyptus trees: older and learned hands explained to ‘newbies’ the subtle differences that age brings to the shape and scent of eucalyptus leaves but not before one very observant lady remarked that with all that free food about, the absence of koalas was quite surprising! When quizzed gently on the matter, she explained that animals are driven by two major forces: hunger and reproduction, but not necessarily in that order; we concentrated on the ‘hunger’ segment of the exposé!

Koala bears or not, fallen eucalyptus trees induced all sorts of contortions from us

Yves is a modest fellow so I must comment on this next photograph.  When I had managed at last to squeeze past the fallen trees, I caught up with the main gang who were convulsed in laughter.

Some one, for some reason or other, had suggested that Myriam should examine Yves´(how can I put this politely?) .... posterior. She had declined, I believe, but then gave us a short speech on the word "cul" as in the old review show "Oh Calcutta" which can sound in French as "O quel´cul t´as!"

Fabrizio leaves Sam to struggle with the heavy walking gear.

At the top, all is forgiven

And then, for no apparent reason whatsoever, a burst of female cacophony

At least the neighbours did not complain. 

Humans and Walkers being but a soffistikated animal form, hunger and the quenching thereof was uppermost in some folks’ minds as they went past cactus pears –wisely left alone- and figs: never in the field of human consumption have so many figs been dispatched in so short a time by so few!

"When you pick a pear from the big paw-paw, use a claw, not a raw paw"

Norris Mac Whirter is despatching a note-taker and when he/she/they has cleared Brexit Border Controls, the hapless chap/ess will witness the feat officially, perhaps in time for the Christmas sale of this year’s Book?

That´s no way to wear a Tilley

Be that as it may, all the leaf admiring and fig consuming were causing a small group of overseas Walkers to fall further and further behind the Leader, much to his concern as the food –the real purpose of the outing- had to be served more or less at the arranged time! Dona Fernanda has known us for many years: she was not fazed by such peccadillos.

En route, we came by an old soak casually leaning against a pillar of his abode’s atrium; the sad soul was putatively putting out a tatty Silly hat in the vain hope that someone would contribute a few coins to the upkeep of his residence. 

Not a sous

When he can afford such a big place with all-weather air-conditioning, running water and impregnable views over the dirt-track, the Walkers refused to be ‘tricked’ into parting with money; some Walkers are from Yorkshire, don’t you know?

A well-timed extra loop along the canal failed to stir any Silves Pythons into view and so we made for the comforting food and shelter at ‘Pescadores’:

Lo! A sight never witnessed before awaited us there! Not a cuckoo nest-stealing python! Not a winged butterfly! Not a posse of nearly-disabled Geriatrics! None of those things!

Sea shells by the canal ! Why ?

There, besides their car, were two Walkers actually brushing dust and twiglets form their raiment and boots! First time for everything, innit, like? Wonders will never cease! 

But one must look after one´s Ermenegildo Zegna, mustn´t one

The innovating duo might even offer their grooming services to the troop, for a small fee, naturally?

The Track and the Statistics

The immaculately dressed Rod arrives for his inspection of the troops

Myriam and Dorothy display the results of their scrumping, sorry, foraging

In the following mêlée inside, great quantities of food were consumed, more banter filled the room

 and Senhor Bento gracefully offered the usual ‘afters’ of fruit: yet more figs!

Until next week? Be good!

Thanks to Hazel, Myriam, Tanja and Yves for photographic contributions and to Yves´ pen for the story.