Cling film

There are some standard questions that people considering moving here, or buying a second home here, always ask. In no particular order, these are:

1. How long have you lived here?
2. Where did you/how did you/how long did it take to learn Portuguese?
3. How often do you go back to England?
4. What do you miss most about home?

I have off pat answers for all of these, but I have been giving further consideration to number 4 recently. In the past I have missed music (but FNAC and Itunes have got that covered now), technology (FNAC and Ebay solve that), the pub (no real solution) and the odd friend. But yesterday, whilst in the kitchen, I realised there is something I miss more than all of these, and something that is nearly as infuriating as the poor standard of driving here. It is cling film.
I like things that do what they say, ergo cling film should be a film that clings. Not here. I looked cling film up in a Portuguese dictionary, and the definition was "a clear membrane, that will not stick to anything except itself. Useful for annoying idiots who try and cover food etc with it. "
I think it is a bloody conspiracy, as you end up using loads of cling film and wrap it around the plate 3 times so it sticks to itself. So, I am using 3 times as much cling film.
Someone, somewhere is an evil cling film billionaire. I'll get my revenge one day.
Update: I have just read that cling film accounts for 8% of Portugal's GDP. The plot thickens.

All change!

It´s been a period where many things have been changing here, and today really brought that home to me. We have a new road just opened, which will increase the ease we can all access keyparts of the central algarve (but won´t reduce accidents as some of it is terribly designed), new planning regulations with regard to construction (PROTAL)(bad news really, beacuse so few people are correctly informed and it creates false effects within the property market), a new name (ALLGARVE) which is a bit of a joke really, as no-one seems to know about it (or care about it either). It is also clear that, on a general scale, there is a drive towards quality, sustainable tourism and development, and this is an excellent thing for the future of the Algarve.

Strangely enough, it was none of these things that really brought home to me the changes occurring around us. I skived off work early today, and went to the beach with the family. We have always gone to a certain part of the beach, just off the beaten track, and with a family run beach bar (a little shabby, but with excellent food, and well priced). There was a small car park, with no charge to park there. It was never too busy, but just busy enough.
So, today we arrive at the beach, 2 kids and about 500kg of plastic buckets, spades, etc. etc and the car park has been removed (we have to take a ticket from a machine, where an old bloke used to stand and say hello, give you a ticket and wait for you to leave and settle your account). the beach bar has been demolished, along with the massive palms that used to stand next to it (definitely now in someone's garden) and replace with a new hi-tech looking bar, with a sister restaurant nearby.

It all looks very nice, and inviting. So we went to the beach, dug holes, nearly drowned the kids, saw some pink people sunbathing (WHY?) and then went for a snack and a drink. Service was good, food was poor, and by jingo it was expensive (3 times the price of a coffee anywhere else).
We came away a little sad that a tiny piece of the real reason we love to live here has disappeared for ever. The tourists and new people will never know about Raffy´s bar, but it is a crying shame that it only exists in our memories and photos. Onwards and upwards I suppose, but I miss it. Am I getting old?

Algarve Driving Tips-Part 2

So, following on from the (very unpopular) original post regarding driving tips in the Algarve (http://ordinary-life-rm.blogspot.com/2007/02/algarve-driving-tips-part-1.html if you missed it) I am now going to start the second lesson, which will cover some aspects of driving on "normal" roads.
First, some basic rules. For around 10 months of the year there are very few people on the road. It is, therefore, perfectly acceptable to drive for 12 months of the year as if there is no-one about. Now, if someone happens to be in the way when you cut your favourite corner, you have the right to shrug your shoulders and there is no need to apologise. Lets face it, they will soon be gone anyway.
Pedestrians at pedestrian crossings must give way to cars. Think of the crossing as a target area, rather than a safe place to cross the road.
There are certain things you must possess in and around your vehicle. Ignoring the legal requirements (we only worry about those once a year at inspection time), the key items are:
Dirt. Self explanatory. We are far too busy being busy to clean our cars. Especially if we have two kids who want to help by using the kitchen scourer.
Someone else´s aerial. I have no idea who first pinched someone else´s aerial in the supermarket car park, but they started a chain reaction that became an epidemic. Superglue has never been so popular.
Some form of "vote for" or protest sticker. It must be seriously out of date for any street cred to be gained.
Hubcaps (complete). Everyone knows hire cars have no hub caps and are silver. If you have a silver car with hub caps missing, you will be scorned.
Dents/damage. It is a little known fact that before the Army went to Iraq, to get the soldiers accustomed to driving in hostile situations they were sent to the Algarve, given hire cars, and made to drive around at either 9 in the morning, or after lunch. I have to admit, I have crashed every single car I have owned (and I few I haven´t) but never as regularly as since I lived here.
Roadworks
AAAAARRRGGH. OK, no-one likes roadworks but sometimes the "organisation" defies belief. We know that the roadworks need to be completed before the tourist season, fair enough, but it seems the pressure of working to a deadline gets too much sometimes. One example. I went to work, and tried to enter the motorway. It was closed, because at last someone has owned up and agreed it should have been tarmac in the first place, not noisy concrete. So, the diversion wants me to go west (I wanted to go east) along the motorway for about 30 km, turn off and come back on myself. This is bad enough, but when there is a perfectly good road which runs parallel to the motorway, and drops us off at the next junction why not send us there instead? Lets face it , it was good enough when there was no motorway. Absolute madness.
Roundabouts
Now this subject has been covered well at http://algarvianlife.blogspot.com/2007/05/magic-roundabouts.html but I can not resist to add my bit.

• The roundabout is not a car park. Ever. Ponte final.
• You do not overtake on a roundabout
• You do not stop on the roundabout and then motion traffic waiting at the stop line to join the roundabout.
• It is neither big nor clever to ignore your indicators whilst navigating a roundabout.
• Lane discipline. This phrase does not mean " I am in this lane and I will use it for whatever exit I choose, regardless of how much I cut someone else up. I will not ever use the other lane, that is my discipline."

Speed.
If you have read my previous post you will know the speed limits are only advisory. There are some special tips I have picked up to avoid the radar controlled traffic lights.
Firstly, if you are approaching the lights and you drive on the wrong side of the road the radar does not pick you up. I have seen this first hand, and was amazed.
Secondly, if you go really fast, you get through the lights and the poor sod behind you gets caught at the red light.
Thirdly, if you do get caught they are not "real" traffic lights so you do not have to stop.
Driving etiquette
i have mixed feelings on this, as recently I have noticed people will sometimes give you a wave to say thanks, or even let you out of a side road. A sign of change in the Algarve?
That concludes today's lesson. Soon you can take your Algarve driving test, but a few more lessons to come first.
One last point. Before anyone starts whinging at this being a negative, anti-algarve drivers post (or anti-anything for that fact) think about this-How do I have such in depth knowledge of poor driving practices, and why does my Insurance Broker send me a crate of Champagne every Christmas?

Nice things happen too...

Everyone seems a bit doom and gloom at the moment (the weather isn't great and that does not help), so I thought I would introduce a happy note.
This week, a friend lost her purse which had all her normal things in, plus a high value cheque she had received that day.
When she realised she had lost it, she was concerned about her things and, of course, the cheque.
Upon arriving home, she checked her post box and found her purse, complete with all the money and personal possessions had been returned by someone who had found it, and taken the time to return it. Nice people, nice story and a happy ending.

Perspective

Well this is not strictly an "Algarve Life" post but what the heck. Lots of good and bad events have occurred recently, some directly to me and people I know and love, some to people I will never ever meet. Just because I will never meet them, and I do not know them (or anything about them) I have decided it does not mean I can not write about how they affect me and the people around me.
So, here are all the happenings, in no particular order:

1. Summer started. If you do not live here, you might think I am KP. but let me explain. There comes a time of year when the fire no longer needs to be lit, barbecue cooking becomes commonplace (which cheers my long suffering wife up as one of the laws of the world is that barbecues can only be operated by men), the kids stay up late and are happy to lay in bed with us in the morning and wake up slowly (nice for me too as 25% of my family (IE the non-barbecuing wife) are allergic to mornings, we only seem to drink vinho verde and beer (red wine in the cellar til next winter) and most importantly, everyone seems to be happy. Now, I love the summer and this might influence me slightly, but I really think the long days and warm nights cheer everyone up.
2. My sister announced she is getting married. No big deal really, but it makes me realise that the soppy girl really has grown up. However, she lives in a bungalow and is under 40, which I find a bit worrying. To be fair, one of here neighbours had a wholescale cannabis farm in their house, so at least it is not a boring area.
3. Sadly, a young girl has been kidnapped in the western algarve. All I can say is that until you have children, you could never understand how the parents of Maddy McCann must feel. I find it peculiar that the tragedy of this family has seemed to come to the forefront of thoughts here. Everyone I talk to, whatever nationality is preoccupied with this terrible act. We live in a country where the children are king ( I know of not one restaurant where children are not welcome at any time of day) and there is genuine horror that this could have happened here. Why is it that the tragedy if these poor people is something that occupies out thoughts all the time when we do not know them and never will?
4. I fell out with my dad. So what, you may say, but it is a long time since he really annoyed me and I really made him aware of it. For once (and rarely) I lost my temper. Do I regret it?No, but I am not looking forward to having to make the peace as, sadly, I feel I can not wait for him to do so.
5. My eldest son (sweet boy number 1) went to the zoo. Well, more than that, he went away for a whole day, on a coach, with the school, hundreds of kilometres away. It just made me realise that despite the fact he really is a lovely grown up boy, he is only a boy after all. And hey, if the boy who pinched him and made him cry on the way home doesn´t watch out, he will practice his newly learned self defence tactics on him next time. (PS don´t tell his mum because she is very much an advocate of telling the teacher and making the peace). She could be Swiss really. Or French.
6. A good friend, that I have not seen for about 3 years, also announced he was getting married. I was sure he was gay. This will entail a large party (sorry wedding) where I get to see all the people I used to work with when I had a proper job. Oh well, can´t wait for the stag night.

All of this, coupled with over consumption of vinho verde, has put me in a philosophical mood. Now, we often have to remind ourselves we do not live in the real world. The Algarve is most definitely not the real world. I have lived in the real world and I can still remember it, so no problem. I do worry how my kids will grow up, because I don´t want them to be narrow minded, but we can worry about that later.
It´s very hard to explain but I feel very happy to be here right now (here being the planet earth, not my nutty house in my office plinking keys on the PC). I am looking forward to renewing old friendships at the forthcoming weddings, swimming on summer evenings, lazy mornings (well at weekends), and the baby learning to speak. All small things I suppose.
Despite all of this, I feel very sad about the kidnapping of this little girl, and it is a feeling that I can not shake off, like (sorry) a veruca before I found out about that liquid nitrogen you could get from the chemist that gets rid of it quicker than a fart clears a lift.
I think it puts life in perspective, and thats just how I feel right now.
Sorry if that´s a bit morose this time, but I promise a happier post next time (and hey you try and write something cheery whilst listening to Ray Lamontagne)

Why do I love to be here?

I have received some comments regarding recent posts here and, heaven forbid, I have been accused of criticising the Algarve and (even worse apparently) the people who live here.
Now, as this is my blog, which basically gives me the luxury of expressing my opinions I am going to do so. Firstly, I choose to live, work, procreate and generally exist here. I think the Algarve should be grateful for my presence as I am an all round jolly good bloke (that is a joke by the way, I am not that egotistical). No, seriously, I made a choice to come here, and I try my best to integrate here, I run a business that pays taxes and employs people, I attempt to speak Portuguese (sometimes quite well, sometimes not) but just because I was not born in this country it does not mean I am excluded from being critical. By criticising, we collectively can improve many of the things that function badly here, and thus, make a difference.
In the 5 years or so that I have been here I have seen major changes in many parts of day to day life, but not at the total expense of some of the great traditions. I thoroughly enjoy the fact that the local shepherd and his goats literally spend all day wandering around in the fields near my house, and I think it is great that he seems to eat mainly goats cheese for his lunch, and therefore you can generally smell him coming. (goats cheese has a particular aroma, all of it´s own). But less than 50 metres from this rural idyll, I have my ADSL, VOIP PBX, digital camera, hi-tech car etc. I like that, its nice and I only have to go and have a chat to him to remind me that I really should stop worrying about the mortgage(s), tax to pay, strange pains near my heart (an old injury from climbing too many ladders on a building site in Regent Street, or so I hope), and should, in the words of my five year old son, CHILL OUT.
Now, I seem to have gone off at a bit of a tangent, so back to the topic in hand, namely the reasons I love to be here.

The weather. Ok its obvious if you know anything about southern Portugal, but let me elaborate. No-one normal likes getting out of bed in the morning (my wife would stay in bed until the afternoon if she could) but when the sun is streaming through your bedroom windows, and you can step out the door and have that early morning sun, that´s warm but never hot, warming up your body, then life's good and I am not even tempted to go back to bed once I have fed the baby, number 1 son and dogs. Yes, they do get fed in that order, except when the baby shares his breakfast with Donny, who happens to be the biggest and stupidest dog. He also has no bollocks, but he was big and stupid before that , so it´s not really relevant. If the truth be told I just like to type word bollocks. Yes, I know it´s childish but it makes me happy.

Eternal optimists. This place has a really above average amount of optimists. Now, if you live here you may feel quite the opposite, but I am adamant about this. One example of this is when the big stupid dog had his stitches out after the removal of his bollocks. I took the dog to the vets, which is run by two young ladies, both petite. First I had to explain that Donny did not have his plastic trumpet on because he had used it to dig up large parts of the garden, and then carry the mud around. Donny is destructive as well as stupid.
The vet then clears the surgery of all other animals (as Donny is not vicious but just does not really understand the concept of being with other animals unless he is trying to play with them). Yorkshire terriers and cats do not really want to play, so it is always safer to clear the vets.
So, the optimistic vet announces she is going to remove his stitches without anaesthetic. Now, partly because I respect here professional opinion, but more because I am game for a laugh, I go along with this. I decide that I should hold the sharp end, as I reckon there is less chance of the dog biting the bloke who feeds him twice a day than some woman who smells of other dogs and always inflicts pain on him. Oh, and I was nearest the only door in the room so if it all went wrong I would be first out.
So, there the three of us are and she starts to pluck at the stitches. First the vet gets flung off, then the assistant starts to be bucked around, whilst I have got his head in an armlock. Needless to say a quick jab and half an hour later it was all over.
In hindsight, there was no way this was ever going to work, but he vet was so optimistic about the whole situation we just went along with it. My definition of an optimist is someone who, no matter how badly the odds are stacked against them will always believe the best will happen. Imagine flying a plane. all the engines catch fire, there is no land in sight, the joystick comes off in your hand and your co pilot has a heart attack. If you are an Algarve optimist you shrug your shoulders, say pois (a Portuguese word I will try and explain shortly) and announce to all it will be fine and you actually believe yourself. I really like this attitude, although you have to be a bit careful as you can get frustrated if you do not understand it.

Pois. I think this is my second favourite word. Bollocks, I have decided, is my favourite, but at least I can say pois in front of the kids.
Now, Portuguese is generally agreed to be a complicated language to learn, particularly if you didn't like learning French at High School and bunked most of the lessons (earning a GCSE E grade no less) and were such a snotty teenager you gave up Latin "as it will never be any use to me ever". Oh, what an idiot I was, and how right Mr Melville, my latin teacher was. I am eating humble pie right now.
When I started to learn Portuguese I realised quickly there were no short cuts, but being impatient I found a couple that sort of helped.

1. Any word in English that ends on ity can generally be transformed to Portuguese by removing the ity and adding idade. Proof-universIDADE, cIDADE, possibilIDADE. Neat huh?
2. If you are ever stuck in conversation (particularly during a long speach by the person you are conversing with), pois can be used to fill gaps, agree or generally just confirm you are still breathing. Advanced users can use pois, sim or pois, não to actually express an opinion. I do not believe there is a single word in English that translates to pois, but of you know differently, tell me.
   

Coffee
I hadn´t drunk coffee for about 7 years before I came to Portugal, but soon became hooked. It´s not just the fact you can have a discussion about which your favourite coffee brand is, or the fact it is a cheap quick pick me up or that I simply like the taste that puts it in my list of things I like.
I like the fact that there must be close on 30 different ways to have a cup of coffee. I am not talking about mochachocamintadecaff or whatever crap Starbucks et al are selling (N.B. these type of places seem to make "coffee" from some sort of syrup-anyone remember Camp coffee yeuch. If you don´t remember have a look at http://www.sybertooth.com/camp/.)
I know of at least three ways to request a normal coffee, which will result in the same drink being produced. I have seen children who go to the coffee shop before school and have warm milk with the tiniest hint of coffee, right through to those who only a bica dupla will do (two coffees basically but bica dupla sounds much better). I just think it is great that you can choose a coffee that would match your mood, in the same way you could choose what music to listen to.

Cakes. See "coffee" above for general idea. I truly believe if I ate a different cake for every working day of the rest of my life I would not have sampled one of every type of cake Portugal has to offer. I have a sweet tooth, so this is definitely a plus.
I also think it is quite convenient that you can obtain your entire calorie intake for a day from eating one cake. No need to eat any more that day,very handy if you are busy. Plus the sugar rush makes you work twice as quickly for a while.

Diversity. OK so lets be slightly more serious. I know more people from very diverse ways of life here than I could ever expect to have met in a lifetime elsewhere. Professionally I deal with everything from first time buyers to multi millionaires, sometimes within minutes of each other. It is an eye opening experience and gives you a good, rounded knowledge of people. I also have friends that are diverse. A typical night out will find a retired electrician (retired or work shy? you decide), me, someone's father in law/cousin/gardener, the odd algarve hippy (if they can be coaxed out of the MAMBA), a timber technician (a joiner, but I always think TT sounds so much more modern, and he is a modern man, I mean he drives a girls car), at least one builder and normally some poor sod who has to drive (but the air con guy has worked this out now so comes in his 2 seater sports car now).
Now, between these people there are normally 4 nationalities, an age spread of around 20 years, large differences in fiscal riches and varying bad habits. But, we all get on, have a great time and I have no doubt that we would not even talk to each other if we were, for example, in London where image is everything and I certainly only used to mix in my own social circles. I like the fact that we are all friends, that we can all learn from each other and that it is only because we are here that this happens.

Things that just grow in the garden, even if you are such a bad gardener you thought "round up" was plant food. I think the heading is self-explanatory. Lots of green things=lots of CO2 consumed and a nice environment to be in. And you don't even have to read an Alan Titchmarsh book. Hurrrah!

Generally
I think you have probably got the picture, I like living here! There are negatives, and many of them but at this stage in my life the positives far outweigh them. There are a few more positives that I won´t go in to chapter and verse on, but just consider:
Cheaper living
Much less stress
Being able to argue and swear in a different language
Tango and/or Lemon beer
Going to the beach in winter

Algarve Driving Tips-Part 1

I am often asked by people who have recently arrived in the Algarve, or are due to move here, how they can best fit in. Obviously, newcomers need to integrate, learn Portuguese, understand the culture and, for the ultimate test, learn the ancient art of Algarve driving.
This first lesson will involve the auto estrada or motorway.
The first rule regards joining the motorway, and you will notice that when you are on the slip road you have to give way to those already on the motorway. Now, if you are joining the motorway, just follow the instructions (i.e. give way). If you are already on the motorway and someone wishes to join the motorway, it is essential you do the following:

• Under NO circumstances may you accommodate someone who wants to join the motorway. They have to give way to you, the sign says so and anyway you are superior because you are already on the road.
• To elaborate, imagine you are the only person on the motorway, and someone else wants to join the party. Whilst you could move lanes, speed up or slow down, all actions that could assist them with no hindrance to you, and no danger to you, you MUST NOT do this.

Once you have found a free space and you are on the motorway, there are new considerations.

• When on the motorway, you should treat your accelerator as if it was a switch that can only be on or off. Join the motorway, floor it. Do not remove foot from accelerator until one of the following situations occur:

1. You want to leave the motorway. In this instance resist the urge to turn the switch (accelerator) off until the last possible moment. You MUST disregard the safety of others and yourself when choosing the last possible moment.
   
2. You crash in to another vehicle/object. If this does occur, leave the car, start smoking, find somewhere to get a coffee and generally relax as your mission has been accomplished.
3. You arrive behind someone who is travelling slower than you (for detailed instructions see below)
4. You feel a need to use the brakes, for some unknown reason. Only tourists use the brakes whilst on a motorway.
5. Please note there is absolutely no reason to slow down if you see a police vehicle on the motorway, unless it is the unmarked car that chases people speeding. The police will not bother with you unless it is their designated day to catch people speeding (and it never is). And by the way most of them drive diesel Toyota Corolla's so they will never catch you anyway.

• If you arrive behind someone who will not get out of your way, then you must do the following.
  

1. Enter their slip stream, making sure that a cigarette paper is the only thing that could come between your front bumper and their rear bumper.
2. Flash your main beam at them, repeatedly.
3. Ignore the fact that they are overtaking, and might move out of your way once they complete their manoeuvre.
   
4. Get mad. Start shaking your fist/mobile phone/cigarettes etc at them. The longer you are behind them, the madder you get.
5. If they still won't move out of the way, put the fear of God up them by lighting a cigarette whilst calling a pal on your mobile phone whilst maintaining fag paper distance.
6. If all else fails, undertake them. The hard shoulder is ideal for this purpose. Ignore the idiot in front whilst doing so, staring straight ahead and making no eye contact.
   

It should also be noted that it is excellent form to carry out the above, followed by a dangerous overtaking manoeuvre just before you leave the motorway. Clearly you have gained no time, but you feel better.

An important motorway rule. The terminal velocity of your vehicle is inversely propertional to its size, age, engine capacity and safety. This theory is proven by the fact that the world land speed record is held by a white diesel powered commercial hatchback (only 2 seats), with a Portuguese registration, being driven with all windows open, large dark glasses and amidst a cloud of cigarette smoke. I know Google attributes it to something else but they can't get everything right or we would all go to Church on Sunday and pray to the great god Google.

In summary, drive like a fool with no regard for anyones safety, ignore all other road users and proceed as if your life depends upon it. Welcome to the Algarve!
P.S. The best month to watch this sport is traditionally August, when the roads are busier, and there are more opportunities for chaos.

The monkey and the swimming pool-Part 1

So, this is the first of the stories about Pete and Gill, hippies of the Algarve. The first time I met them, they were introduced to me by Nigel, the original Algarve hippy, but more about him later.
Pete and Gill are simply put, lovely people and wonderful company. They have had some great experiences in their lives (including meeting each other, and if you ever wanted to see an example of soul mates you have to meet these two). Despite all of this, they are not combative people, and I don't think I have ever seen either of them drawn in to an argument. Hang on, thinking about it I have been told that Pete nearly spontaneously combusted when he was told in our local supermarket (motto: The client comes last) that he could not exchange a hi-fi he had purchased that week, even though it was faulty. The "assistant", and I use inverted commas because she should really be called the "I don't want to assist you at all I am a self important cow" but they could not fit that on her little badge, using Portuguese logic explained the hi-fi had to be sent away for repair, thus leaving one music addicted hippy without music for an indeterminate period. Bear in mind that in the Algarve when something is sent for repair it will be returned sometime between one week in the future and never, and you can understand Pete's frustration.
Fortunately, for the good of the world, and the physical safety of Senhora I don't give a toss, Nigel (the original Algarve hippy) arrived and intervened. Nigel speaks much better Portuguese than Pete, albeit in a Devon accent (imagine someone ordering clotted cream fudge in Portuguese and you have got the picture) and also does not mind a row with a snotty shop assistant. 5 minutes later, voilà, one new stereo and one nil to the customer. And, even better, I get to piss myself laughing about the whole thing the next time I go to lunch with Nigel and he tells me the whole story.
So, hopefully, you get the picture. I met Pete and Gill because they wanted to sell their house (and I am an estate agent). They had a very sweet converted quinta (farmhouse) which they wanted to sell as they had a new project to move on to in the middle of the MAMBA (Miles And Miles of Bugger All-Copyright Clive Stott 2005) because that is the sort of they thing do.
Well, we tried hard to sell their house, with little success. However, during this time it became apparent that there was some friction with their neighbour. One of their neighbours was apparently the illegitimate son of a Portuguese widow from the local village, and had all the trappings of Portuguese rural life, namely a very noisy, extremely slow motorbike of an indeterminate make, loads of smelly sheep (they have to be smelly to really qualify), permanent smell of alcohol and, of course, a hat. That is all pretty irrelevant as they had no problems with him at all, if you ignore the smell I suppose.
The neighbour on their other side was an English guy who had bought a property and refurbished and upgraded it. Unfortunately, he had employed one of the Algarves low life to "supervise" the works. Now the dictionary definition of supervise according to dictionary.com is "to oversee (a process, work, workers, etc.) during execution or performance; superintend; have the oversight and direction of." Sadly, this gent, known colloquially as The Monkey, for reasons that will become obvious, clearly either does not have a dictionary or can not read. If we were to ask him for his definition of supervise I think it would be "to create the maximum amount of chaos for all involved, to use all means necessary, including (but not limited to) blackmail, theft, lying and threatening behaviour, to gain the maximum possible, even if at the expense of everyone else involved in the process". Lets be blunt, I don't like him, in fact he will appear on the "Wankers I have met" post when I get round to writing it.
The monkey carried out a number of things that were pretty stupid, but did not affect his neighbours directly. He closed off a caminho, which is a public track, and this is considered very bad form in Portuguese rural areas. He "organised" the delivery of a fibreglass swimming pool, and this is the first time we really understood how few brain cells this guy has. He ordered the pool, and paid a deposit with his clients money, without checking the answer to one basic question. Now pause a minute, close your eyes, and imagine this for me. You are at Ikea (stop moaning their hot dogs are nice) and you are in that pick up place where everyone parks their car to stuff in their new wardrobe/alien space lamp etc. Now, imagine an idiot trying to buy a swimming pool and stuffing it into his estate car. He trys on the roof, in the back seat, he puts his wife on the roof and tries to flatten all the seats and still it won't fit. Ok, so its a metaphor but that is more or less the situation. This buffoon orders an 8 metre long pool, and then on the day of delivery realises that neither the lorry nor the crane can get anywhere near the house. So, plan B kicks in (lets face it this donkey doesn't plan anything so it should be "Idea B" really) and he orders a helicopter to deliver this pool. Now, this is a possibility, but he failed to check that they could get a helicopter close enough. I can imagine the quote from the pilot "Oi monkey this is a helicopter not a magic carpet". And the result? One damaged pool, one client out of pocket and Idea C-construct a pool in situ.
Part 2 to follow-now the arguing really begins and we go to court.

The beginning

Hi
It is my intention to write here about my life. Ok, so sounds boring so far, but of course I am going to add my twist to the posts.
A year and a half ago I was getting drunk (well, I was drunk) with some friends to celebrate the birth of my second son. It had been a difficult birth, and there was an enormous sense of relief because he had been held back in hospital for 2 weeks after his birth. So, we were all in good spirits.
I am quite a closed person, but because of the influence of alcohol, and my general state of mind, I started to discuss with two friends (the algarve hippies, Pete and Gill, but more about them later). my plans to write a book (maybe) but a blog first. I remember discussing the basic idea, which was my observations of some of the things that have happened to me in my short life, and my take on those. I am often amused (or enraged) by simple everyday situations, and I thought this could be a good basis to write something.
My working title was (and is) "The Diary of an Ordinary Man". I was quite shocked, beacuse I am a modest(ish) person, when Gill thoroughly berated me for my choice of title. Her words were (more or less, we were drinking JD by this point): You can´t call it that. Your life isn´t ordinary, you have moved to a foreign country, learnt a language, set up a business (and had major problems doing so), had two kids and all of this when you are only young. For a start, thats not ordinary.
As well as many other things I am stubborn and lazy. So, I am keeping the working title as a) I like it and b) I can´t be arsed to think of anything else. However, in deference to the Algarve hippies (because I don´t think I would even be bothering if it wasn´t for them) I will make my first post about some of the really peculiar things that happen to them. Here´s a brief resumé that I can think about writing about:

1. The monkey and the swimming pool
2. A lawyer who is scared of cats
3. Oh shit we have driven off the mountain
4. Dodgy Pete
5. The Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen shirt
6. Living in a tent when you have a perfectly good house
7. The last laugh (but the monkey is crying in his beer)
8. Why is my baby too big and watch out my wife is going to kill you.

Watch this space for an explanation of this soon