It was hot, this past week. Over 35º C. Even with the usual ocean breeze that’s warm. Now that there are no guests, I took the opportunity to have a good go with the high-pressure cleaner. Satisfying in terms of effect but a bit of a boring job.
You can think about the upcoming work in progress perfectly
The last time I did this, it wasn’t that hot, and then it gets chilly after a few hours. You get soaking wet, you know. Unavoidable. Also unavoidable is that your thoughts go in all directions. After a while the meditativeness wears off a bit, and one train of thought starts to become a bit more intrusive.
“How many layers of paint are there?” a thought begins, “if I spray at an angle, I’ll get under it, it will go faster.” After a few hours I’ve completed one section – seven more to go. Plus the bottom, dinside outside, bench top, bench front …. pillars, eight of them … Despite the earplugs, the iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii of the machine is getting a bit too much for me. My pants are sticking to my shins, and the entire village square is covered in scales.
The fun is gone a bit. You can think easily while high-pressuring, and my thoughts are increasingly going in the same direction. “Why on earth am I doing this? No one ever sits here. Certainly not anymore, now that the roof is gone.”
It has been a lot of work to get the Dome back in order
After twenty-five years of abandonment (in 2000, when we arrived) the fountain had been torn out, the pavement half gone, the iron roofing half rotten, and the paint half gone. We made it whole again, and then it looked beautiful. It was useful too, because we sat there during lunch (nicely in the shade), the guests’ dinner was served as a buffet, children on holiday could play there, and in the evening it became cozy with guitars and tea lights.
After a few years the roof had to be done again, because the iron was rusting and didn’t stop. And after a few more years it had to be done again, with Hammerite this time. And after a few more years everything had to be sanded off, inside and out, and painted, like the walls, inside and out. A volunteer with a beautiful hand of writing painted my favorite poem on it. Rudyard Kipling “If”.
When I was up there on the roof with the sander, I thought after a few days: “This is the last time I do this.” It took six weeks, and it was a s**t job. After a few years, unfortunately, it had to be done again, but after thinking outside the box, I sewed a nice hat on it from shade cloth. Like that, you could no longer see the blisters and the rot.
The phenomenon of “entropy” doesn’t take that into account at all. The rusted molecules ignite the others, and so the chaos continues. At one point, it was even no longer responsible to sit on top of that roof to sand it completely bare again, because imagine if you’d fell through it.
Loyal readers of this blog know that my sons tore the roof off at the beginning of this year, because that was the only option left.
There we were, with a roofless Dome in our midst. What to do?
Well, nothing, because it started raining in March (and in February we had other things to do) and it rained through until the end of April. Great, thank you weather gods! Up until now there was no opportunity to do anything about that Dome, because it is not super high on the priority list, and one’s not going to do the iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii and all that water and those flakes all day long while there are people staying all around.
But after a day of iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii and so little result, I start thinking outside the box again. “Dom Henriques Foja de Oliveira once came up with the idea that that thing had to be here”, I think “but that does not mean that it is in the law that it has to stay there forever and ever. It’s nice to try to restore everything to its former glory but there are limits, aren’t there? (Rhetorical question.)This means at least two more weeks of iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, then smoothing and straightening, tiling, sawing tiles at the right angle, grouting, painting …. all in all probably another six weeks of my life. Full-time. Nonstop.”
I walk to the kitchen, see Broes sitting there, kick off my wet flipflops, and ask: “How would you like to tear down that F**king Dome?”
Can you guess what his answer was, dear reader?
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We moved here in 2000 from Rotterdam, the Netherlands, to the Termas-da-Azenha, Portugal.
A big step, especially with two small children.
We are busy to rebuild one of portugals cultural heirlooms: Termas-da-Azenha, an old spa which has been turned into several holiday houses, rooms and a campsite.
You’ll find mosaics and paintings everywhere.
Since 2018 we call ourselves the first B&B&B in the world – Bed & Breakfast & Bathrobes. You can buy a home-made unique bathrobe/housecoat with us.
Each week a little blog about what is happening around us. An easy read. A few minutes in another world. A little about what it going on in Portugal. If you plan your holiday to Portugal, it might be a nice preparation
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