Hi David
I´m Ingrid here and here my walk report is. Because, in written English, I very influent (unfluent?) am and cannot with ease the compulsive blog jokes crack, I will consign this heap to my ghostwriter, JohnH, interjecting to disown his words where I want to. Just to be clear, this is me in italic blue; his ghost script is in upright black.
(Now, black - there´s a coincidence because, just before embarking on this spiel, I happened to look up the French word for “ghostwriter” and, would you credit it, the word is “nègre”. It´s politically incorrect to use what everybody coyly calls the “n…..” word in English or American these days, but other languages such as Spanish and French seem to be able to use it with….I was going to say “with gay abandon” , but if I did, that would upset some sensitive community or other….so I will say “with impunity”.
If you doubt the translation, vide Harraps Shorter English- French/French-English Dictionary – 6th Edition published 2000 by Chambers Harrap Publisherrs Limited, Hopetoun Crescent, Edinburgh –trust the Scots to weasel their way into this – p.400 and p-619, def i.b.
So here I am, “le nègre d´Ingrid.” Let the ghostwriting commence.)
Ingrid´s Report
I understand that, traditionally, a blog starts with a Starters Photo, and so this one will.
From left to right: JohnH, Jan, Janet (distracted by Yves), Nick, Yves, Manuella,Hazel, Ingrid, Jim, Pam, Val, Geoff (mugging it), Trish, Roger, Sue M, Sue H, and Martin; plus Baxter and Bella.
You will of course have twigged …(What is this “twigged” meaning?) …as I was saying, twigged immediately that these are not the Starters of May 23rd and that is not the National Park entrance. These are the Starters of May 16th, for Pam and Nick´s walk at Figueira.
But, since the report of that walk omitted its Starter photo and since I am proud to represent that centre of meticulous correctness that is Brussels, I thought it only proper that I should take this opportunity of bringing the records up to date, and by so doing keep in the good books of those bureaucrats par excellence, Messieurs Jack Junker, Mick Barnier, Matt Selmayr, Uncle Tom Cobley and all.
And now that´s done, I can now stick in the Starter photo for my walk.
My official photographer for the day was given permission to prop his camera up on the bonnet of Andrew´s luxury BMW.
Look at that polish on that bonnet – you can tell it´s not an Algarvean resident. But let´s zoom in for a closer look at who was there.
“18 happy campers gathered at Barão São João for my walk.
Marian, Sue M., David, John & Hazel Hope, Yves, Catarina, Val, Jan, Jim H, Janet, Steve, Geoff & Sue Hill, Manuela and me …. and a special appearance by our lovely Tina and Andrew!”
The Track
The Statistics
Total Distance: 15.8 kms. Total Time: 4 hrs 25 mins.
Moving Time: 3 hrs 31 mins. Moving Average; 4.5 kph.
Total Ascent: 389 mtres. Lunch Stop: nearly 30 mins.
The Walk
Well, after I had given the group the traditional Leader´s Pep Talk, we set off at a sharp pace, moving round the southern edge of the National Park. At the first stop, Jim was spotted giving Sue H a specialist technical explanation of why her water bottle would not stand upright:
It´s got a pointed bottom. It´s a cyclist´s bottle.”
Good to know that.
Then came a couple of medical emergencies. First, Jasper got something sharp stuck in his rear offside foot, but a solicitous David soon sorted that out for him.
The second was when Janet said that she didn´t feel up to continuing, because she was still feeling the effects of her recent lurgi attack. (What is this word “lurgi”? it is not in my Concise Oxford Dictionary.) So she retreated to the cars, which was a great pity because I was hoping for a great re-union during the walk of the three remaining members of the Fabulous Four.
This was us back in 2009:-
Unkindly, some also called us the Four Floosies, because those blogger people used to walk behind us eavesdropping on our intimate private conversations and then publishing the more indiscreet remarks in the blog. (I never approved of such childish practice, which would certainly be banned nowadays under GDPR.)
So with Janet gone (she did promise to meet up for drinks after the walk), Tina and I were reduced to being a Dynamic Duo:-
“Damned paparazzi in your face everywhere!”
Now the pace quickened as we neared the ridge with all the windmills.
Hazel demonstrating her walking technique learned on the Pilgrims Way.
I guess she needed it, just to keep up with Rose.
There was little wind, so the windmills, while looking as menacing as ever, were inactive and silent.
What with the speed we were going at, we arrived at my planned lunch stop at 11.30 am, far too early to eat, so I decided to keep moving and to stop later on. A bad move? Possibly so, because in a few minutes we found ourselves being covered with dust from passing heavy traffic which had no intention of slowing down, despite our frantic hand signals to do so.
A little bit later, we sat down to lunch, some of us keeping well away from the road,
but most of us sat by the roadside, taking a chance that the traffic had died down.
Manuela, however, was in any case safe from any more dust under her yashmak camouflage.
“Incidentally, we were having lunch me sitting near to Manuela and Catarina and hearing them talking English among themselves, I said to them (in Portuguese) “I think it is funny when two Portuguese talk to each other in English.” and both of them said “Who is Portuguese?” and my answer was “Both of you are.” For the rest of the walk, I think they really got to know a lot more about each other.”
Not having met before, they were both exhibiting typical Portuguese politeness to each other by speaking English.
After lunch, we got going again. I don´t know what JohnH had had in his drink by this stage but he looked quite merry:-
So did Tina and Andrew:-
Now, Val and Yves started photographing cistus flowers and attempting to find one with a record number of spots.
but I don´t think that two flowers held together qualify for the record as a thirteen pointer. (Does anyone know what the record for a single cistus is?)
At this stage, I found myself on - what´s that English phrase'? - on the horns of a dilemma. I had intended that the after-walk drinks would be taken in the village of Barão São João before climbing the steep hill back to the cars, but now JohnH suggested we go to Café O Bárbaro in Bensafrim. But this wouldn´t suit Jim and Steve who would be going to Praia de Luz in the other direction. So what to do? I put it to the democratic vote and Bensafrim won.
Eventually we made our way out of the National Park and onto some tarmac, where we were accosted by a woman who stopped her car and said “You are walkers, aren´t you?” – which was rather perceptive of her, given that we were all on foot and had all the boots, packs and sticks gear.
Anyway, it turned out that she was being a Good Samaritan for a recently widowed English friend of hers in the locality who had become a bit house-bound and needed to get out and meet people. This friend had apparently been quite athletic and a bodybuilder in the past. David agreed to take the friend´s email and contact her as a possible AWW recruit. JohnH then enquired how old the friend was, to be told she was in her forties. But this short interchange gave rise to a considerable amount of ribald teasing of John by certain ladies in the group, of which I really did not and do not approve. His question was very polite and, in the circumstances, very sensible. Just because the Good Samaritan was, herself, of a certain age – 68, I believe – and was slightly hippy in appearance, and had an intriguing, nay, I would venture, had an exotic, red streak in her hair, doesn´t mean there was anything else going on. The poor guy didn´t deserve that! So I spring to his defence.
It´s not the case, by the way, that we Belgians lack a sense of humour. I can be serious when I think it necessary but I can laugh at a joke just as well as the next man. Here, for example, is a hilarious Belgian joke:-
Why did the French choose the cockerel as their national symbol? Because it’s the only animal that sings when it’s knee-deep in guano.
And here´s another cracker, very popular in Antwerp these days:-
How do the French kill themselves?
They shoot 15 centimeters above their heads, right in their superiority complex.
Oooff, that hurt.
Then, shortly later, it was back to the cars. As we drove out of Barão São João, passing Café Kalypso (?), the adjacent car park had masses of space. Why, I wondered, had I listened to JohnH´s suggestion about going to Bensafrim? Anyway, despite the vote going against them, Jim and Steve were gracious losers and joined us there, as did Janet for our Terrific Trio re-union.
Amidst all this, Yves found himself captivated by a female personage sitting nearby, having a smoke all by herself :-
and persuaded her to join our table.
When the poor dummy had eventually to be restored to her proper seat, one section of her rather substantial embonpoint fell out onto the floor; and Yves hastened to put it back where it had come from. This episode led David later to comment :-
“Finally, a warning. Yves has developed a doll fetish, and we have no idea where it might lead. Further enlightenment in this week´s blog, I have no doubt, but you have been warned.”
It´s still too soon to reach a conclusive diagnosis, David, but I understand that fixation specialists have him under close observation.
Various farewells were made; Val, and Geoff and Sue - for the summer; Tina and Andrew - until next time; not sure about Marian – it seems that she has to come out every now and then just to keep an eye on her cushion man, so we´ll no doubt hear more about this chap from time to time.
And so, David, that is my report. Please circulate it as usual. Meanwhile, my thanks to all of you who came to walk with me and I hope you enjoyed it.
My thanks also to the photographers, Yves, Sue and John and to mon cher “nègre” for his ghostscript, even if I couldn´t understand the half of what he was going on about.
I will end with that AWW blog tradition, a YouTube excerpt. This one is Gerard Hoffnung´s piece about the perils that can arise when trying to write in a foreign language:-
“A french widow in every bedroom affording delightful prospects:”
Click on:- https://youtu.be/5iHCMwA7n7I
Beijinhos,
Ingrid
