It must have been somewhere between 6am and 7am. I have no idea exactly.
I just know that I was awake.
Not properly awake, just aware, I suppose. My eyes were closed (with no interest in opening up), but I sort of knew what was going on.
So what had woken me?
I lay there and tried to work it out, whilst also trying not to wake up fully.
There it was, a noise, a droning sound. My brain whirred into gear. Was that a plane?! Blimey! I haven’t heard a plane for weeks!
The noise got louder, it got dronier, it carried on, it was fantastic to hear… but eventually I drifted back off to sleep. Too bloody early…
A bit later, I woke up for real. I checked my phone for the time – 8am. I’ll take that… I should have been properly awake earlier really, but 8am isn’t too bad.
I lay there and thought about the plane I’d heard.
Was that normality returning? Was that the start of things to come? I truly hoped so!
And then I heard something again. I was fully awake now. It was a droning sound once more, but at a higher pitch. What the hell was it? And then it struck me – it was a small fishing boat heading out to sea.
Oh bollocks…
The noise that I’d heard earlier hadn’t been a plane at all. It had been a boat heading out to sea. Why had I thought otherwise? Because it had sounded exactly like the mono-engined planes that occasionally fly over Sue’s house in St Albans.
As I said: bollocks!
It wasn’t normality returning, it wasn’t the start of things to come. Or maybe it was… maybe that’s all we have to look forward to, the sound of boats heading out to sea as opposed to the sound of planes flying overhead.
Normally, it wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that I can’t get back to the UK right now… Mmmm…..
Anyway, I was awake. It had been a weird start, and the day was only going to get weirder.
Today was Sunday, and on Sunday I tend to stay in bed. I stay there until I’ve posted something on the blog, done some more writing, posted a few bits on Facebook, posted an email to my fans (all three of them!) and blah blah blah…
So I’d been busy, but it was now nearly midday. I’d decided to get up (honest!) and was just pushing back the duvet when my phone went:
“Dave! Where are you?”
“In bed!”
Obviously – it was still morning on a Sunday. Where else would I be during this overwhelming pandemic?!
‘”Can you come quick? I’ve just broken down and I’m blocking the road!”
“Where are you?”
“The bottom of my street!”
“I’ll be there now!”
It was my mate, and his street isn’t far away.
Luckily, the duvet was already off, so I leapt out of bed, threw some clothes on, and (I admit I had to stop for a wee first) legged it up the road.
As I flew through the square, I wondered what was happening. One of the restaurants was doing a roaring trade, selling beers to maskless locals, who (on the whole) were self-distancing but socialising at the same time. Weird!
Anyway, I cracked on.
When I got to my mate, as he’d said, his car was stuck right in the middle of the road.
Mmmm… being totally impractical, I wondered how I could help. There wasn’t even anywhere to push the car. The corner was tight and other cars were blocking the way forward, well at least blocking the turning circle of my mate’s van.
“What’s happened?”
“I think the starter motor has gone.”
Not being very practical, I wondered how the car had started (he’d bump started it apparently) and why the starter motor had stopped the car once it was going. But mine is not to reason why… I know nothing about mechanics.
Anyway, at this point the locals came good – and this is why I love Portugal:
A man came out and offered to move his car so that my mate could push his to the side.
The man also admitted that he wasn’t a mechanic, but took a look under the bonnet anyway. I could have done that, but not with the same panache!
A lady then came out of her house and explained (well, we think she explained) that her husband was a mechanic and that he would come and have a look
So within 30 seconds of me being there, the locals had taken charge and were offering help like you wouldn’t believe!
Soon enough, we had my mate’s car pushed to the kerb – we were happy and the locals were happy.
At which point I said: “Can I go and have a shower now?”
He looked surprised, but said that it was OK.
So I headed off home to have a shower and breakfast.
Once home, I went through the process: shower, dry, dress, eat…
I then checked my phone. I’d missed a call. It was my mate, so I called him back.
“Are you OK?”
“Yes, I’m in the square having a beer!”
I’d mentioned what I’d seen on the way up, and he’d obviously decided to take advantage.
“Fancy a quick one?”
To be honest, I haven’t been out socially for a while. Well, I have, but not in a third party environment.
I’ve socialised at home, and I’ve socialised at a friend’s house, and I’ve gone to pick up takeaway beer – but socialising at (or close to) a bar? No. And I’ve missed it.
So I agreed.
When I got to the square, the place was buzzing, but somehow my mate had managed to commandeer a bench.
Fantastic!
So I purchased a couple of beers, and it started.
He sat at one end of the bench and I sat at the other, and the locals social-distanced outside the restaurant – well, sort of anyway…
We supped our beers and enjoyed the sun.
The only complaint I had is that I’m now used to the price of beer from the supermarket. If I buy in the right-sized bottle, I can have 33cl for 53c.
My mate informed me that I would have to pay €1.20 for a 33cl bottle. What the…? And then he had the audacity to tell me that he thought that was cheap! Whatever!
But it got worse. I went to the window from which they were serving and asked for two beers. The bloke spoke good English and informed me that unfortunately the 33cl bottles were warm, but he could provide me with small beers that were cold.
I agreed, obviously.
He went away and came back with two 20cl bottles. And how much?! Yes, they were cold but €1 A BLOODY BOTTLE?! WTF?
If I buy a litre bottle from the supermarket, 20cl is 31.8c… what can I say… This social drinking lark (in a social environment) needs to be reconsidered – big time!
But today was a new beginning, and so we drank: too much, if I’m honest.
Whilst we were there, people came and went: locals said hello and we said hello back, Neil and Taci walked past and joined us for a beer. It was just really nice – apart from putting my foot in some dog poo that I hadn’t noticed close to the leg of the bench we were sitting on – bollocks…
It was nice to be out, nice to be socialising, nice to be in the centre of the village with everyone else. It was just nice…
Despite the lack of planes, let’s hope that this is a new beginning. We should find out tomorrow when shops and cafes start to open up for real…