M-U-M what's for tea?

These cats are killers.
As I was walking around the garden, I saw one of the cats quickly dispear from view as she saw me walking by. I was wondering if it was the missing kitten so I went over to investigate and I was faced with the remains of a hare which the cat was happily dining on.
We have seen Mum chase and catch a hare before which was bigger than she was and it looks like this one wasn't quick enough either.
(Move your mouse cursor over the picture and click to get a bigger view of all the best bits)

Ooooh, it's like living in the Masai Mara.

How much !!!!

Sometimes it can be a bit of a tricky situation living here in Portugal, especially when one of us has to go for our monthly pedicure and what’s the other one, oh yes, coiffeur, which as you have probably realised by now, isn't me.

When faced with situations like these, one really needs a second car when one doesn't want to be trapped in the house and those of you that have followed my ramblings recently, will understand that cars aren’t my favourite subject at the moment. However, these are the small tribulations that we suffer for living here in the sunshine, sunshine that this past week has been rolling down the gutters overflowing into the neighbouring fields.
Portugal is well known for is beurocracy and red tape and very recently I tested one of its finest.
As I have been saying before rambling off course a little, you need a second car for those occasions as previously mentioned, unfortunately, the Portuguese really wallop on the special car tax's, which makes it almost unaffordable to buy a decent car in Portugal. Currently, the equivalent model of any UK car is approximately 20% more expensive in Portugal than in the UK. Faced with this situation, scores of English people drive their cars from the UK to Portugal. The problem with this is that you still have to take your UK registered car back to the UK every year for its MOT and road tax.

The alternate option to this is, you can "matriculate" your UK car into the Portuguese system and put Portuguese number plates on it.
So this week I made enquires to matriculate my second car, an 8 year old, Mercedes ML270, worth maybe around €7,000 at a push, to see what it would cost.
The information that came back from the authorities was staggering, apparently it would cost over €14,000 in Portuguese tax to do so. But that’s double what the car is worth I said, sorry Senhor, that’s the system.
However, if I was Portuguese and wanted to do the same in the UK, which would be silly as it’s cheaper to buy one in there, the cost to put UK plates on it, would be less than £200.

So much for the European Union and working as one, another priceless example of living in a country that is the UK’s oldest ally and all because the lady of the house needs her beauty bits doing, personally I think that’s a complete waste of time anyway, but I’m only saying that because she doesn’t read this drivel.

A22 Toll Road Update

After just one month into the new year, figures are showing that road deaths on the Algarve’s EN125 road have doubled when compared with the same period last year. Known as Europe’s deadliest road in the 1980s and 1990s, much of the A22 motorway had yet to be built, road death statistics started showing marked improvements the past decade as the motorway reached beyond Lagos.
Serious questions have been raised as the introduction of tolls on the A22 draws nearer, with the Government supposedly set to save €700 million a year, the financial reward of tolls seem to outweigh concerns over an increase in fatalities on secondary roads.
I told them but they wouldn't listen, this is getting to be a habit.

BMW Update

Just got back from the UK after spending a few days in the lovely old country.
First thing to check when I returned was if the BMW would start, sure enough after only 7 days away, the battery was as flat as a pancake. They can have all the computers in the world but they have to be programmed by humans, in this case German humans who can't find anything wrong with my car, just as well we took the plane to the UK.
I told them but they wouldn't listen.

Memory Lane

Just when I was feeling a bit down, my best friend from school sent me these pictures.
They are of the place where I lived from 1955 - 1969.

In those days it was called Doug's Snack Bar, Doug was my Dad and it was run by my Mum and Dad selling cups of tea, coffee and soft drinks to the local's.
It was handily sited in the market place of Ilkeston in Derbyshire, where the local buses would terminate their runs, have a break and refreshment, before they were off again.
A cup of tea was 4d pence when we left and a bottle of coke a tanner, that's 6d pence and in today’s money, it’s about 2.5 pence.
Doug's became synonymous in Ilkeston and was a meeting place for everyone, especially when Dad installed a juke box and I made it my job to ensure that the right kind of music was installed. In fact, due to this my Dad probably owes everything to me for making him a success.

It was also handy for local schools and one day in assembly at one of the schools Hallcroft, the headmaster, a certain Austin Nash, banned everyone from using the snack bar at the end of the road in the market place. The kids were furious and were straight around to Dad to tell him what had happened. Dad immediately set off and marched into the school with the kids behind him like the piped piper and demanded to see Mr Nash. The following day in assembly Mr. Nash made the following announcement, “After due consideration, it has been decided that pupils are now free to use the respectable restaurant in the market place known as Doug’s.”

Above the snack bar was all snooker hall, which was Dad’s responsibility to run in conjunction with the café. Dad would open the café at 6am in the morning, ready to catch the early bus crew’s and Mum would close the café at 8pm in the evening, by which time Dad was now “stewarding” the snooker hall above until 11 pm at night.

It has not changed much over the years, except the prices and still looks quite a dump 40 years later, even with the addition of the bijous table and chairs outside, hardly a café on the Champs-Élysées.

Anyway, my friend Paul took these photo's only a few days ago and apparently the current owner of the Corner Cafe saw him through the window and chased after him, wanting to know why he was taking pictures of his pretty little tea palace. I assume Paul told him, is was for a long standing best mate who used to live there, as he obviously didn’t confiscate the camera.

Ford Cortina's were never this much trouble

We were planning on driving back to the UK on Tuesday morning for Lynette's Mum's funeral next week. Having spent the last couple of days loading the car with everything from the parrot to the kitchen sink all was ready for the off the following morning.
Unfortunately, come the departing hour, I turned the ignition key in the car and there was no response, the car was totally dead.
Thinking that it would just be a quick jump from another car, I quickly phoned a friend who came around within 5 minutes. We soon coupled up, the car turned over but would not fire, so garage assistance was needed.
What happened next would take me hours to tell, but the upshot of it was, I had to get the car on a tow truck and into the local BMW garage 30 miles away. However, as the car had gone into total shutdown, the electronic ignition key had lost its settings, probably as a security measure, because it wouldn't tell the car to fire up.

The tow truck arrived 4 hours later but we couldn't load the car because, in total shutdown, the car was locked in Park and no matter what you do you cannot unlock it unless you are a BMW dealer with the special laptop. Despite any number of phone calls to BMW emergency services in both Portugal and the UK, no offer of roadside assistance was forthcoming. In fact, part of the total shutdown on this particular BMW involves a gearbox lock that only a particular part of your ignition key (mine is in 2 parts) the 2nd part is the part that unlocks the gearbox, except mine didn't.
So the BMW technician suggested I get a locksmith out and get him to drill the lock out as he didn't not know what else to do as the Portuguese BMW's don't have this particular "feature".
To cut an even longer story short, it is now 7:30 in the evening (having been at it since 9am earlier in the day) and after further expensive phone calls to the UK and got nowhere, I telephoned a Portuguese friend who also has a friend who works for a different BMW dealership in the Algarve, who promised to help the following morning.
The following morning, I received a telephone call from the idiot technician who had previously told me to drill out the lock and said that he had been instructed to assist in my problem.
Within 50 minutes the said technician had driven to my house some from his depot and a further 30 minutes later my car was started and purring away like a good 'un.
How come this same technician has suddenly become helpful and sorted the problem quickly and efficiently when yesterday because I was a Brit he had no idea or didn't want to know how to help out. It took a Portuguese person to tell this particular Portuguese waserk to stop being a total idiot and sort the problem, which he knew how to do all along.
So, we missed our ferry from St.Malo in France and have rescheduled it for a couple of month’s time.
We have arranged a house and parrot sitter while we are away and have decided to fly to the UK on Sunday so that we can say goodbye to Mum on Tuesday.
Ford Cortina’s were never this much trouble and when things went wrong, I repaired and sorted it myself, apparently that’s called progress (my arse).