You may be forgiven for letting your mind leap to that successful Australian soap that introduced the delectable Kylie to the world, but that is not what the title refers to. My mind was preoccupied with the stench of the farm, the absentee landlord, the idiot farm manager and his equally inept hired help!

"Can you smell that?" asked Maria.

"Smell what?" from me.

"That smell," nose in the air doing a 360.

"Nope!" nose following the same parabola, expecting to be overpowered by the stench of the farm that I remembered so vividly from our previous visit.

"Exactly! It's gone. Whoopee!"

"What do you know that you haven't told me?" testily.

We drove to the gate of the farm to await the arrival of somebody that Maria had hastily summonsed with a swift phone call. He duly arrived and I was surprised to see a young guy get out of his all-terrain four-wheeler. I was even more surprised to learn that this agricultural 'midget', whom I was prepared to dislike intensely on first sight, spoke perfect English. Darn, I couldn't even mutter expletives in his direction without being rumbled!

There were still more surprises to come. He was introduced, not as the owner (or even the idiot-manager) of the farm, but as the youngest son of the guy to whom Maria had previously sold the plot of land that adjoined the side of our property. She explained that the father, who was in a buying frenzy, had made an offer to the owner of the 'smelly' farm and had had the offer accepted. The penny dropped. These guys had us surrounded. Time to circle the wagons!

The young guy proceeded to give us the tour of the grim 'Animal Farm'. I almost expected to see old Major standing on a soapbox and spouting, "No animal must ever live in a house or sleep in a bed, or wear clothes, or drink alcohol, or smoke tobacco, or touch money, or engage in trade." Indeed, if he had, I would have probably joined him! But I digress.

The lad explained that he was in the process of cleaning up the mess. That it was taking longer than he anticipated because of the state the land and buildings were in, but that he expected to have the job done before the next planting season. Say again? Yes, he intended to plant crops on all the land that now surrounded us.

Wow! This is going to restore Paradise to the original prototype (I am sure He had a design plan before He started). I couldn't be happier about what I am hearing. Except, of course, I can't expect the sheep to come over and mow my lawn for free any more.

"I don't believe it!"

I pause to wonder when my metamorphosis into a Victor Meldrew had really begun?

Time to look at a few pics with some explanatory captions ...

  
  
  

Things are looking up. More to follow ...

Remember today, for it is the beginning of always. Today marks the start of a brave new future filled with all your dreams can hold. Think truly to the future and make those dreams come true.

Anon

About three and a half years ago Maria and I started hunting for an alternative to the flat in which we live, here in Lisbon, Portugal. Nothing much wrong with the current flat, except that it is in a big city, and we have reached the age where quiet and solitude are a more attractive proposition.

Map of The Algarve

The hunt concentrated on the Algarve region because, as most people who are familiar with that area will tell you, it is a most attractive part of Portugal, probably the world. Since 'The Algarve' stretches from Sagres on the west coast to Monte Gordo on the Spanish border in the east, we had a vast area to cover. But several factors were used to whittle down the choices, which helped to reduce the area that we needed to concentrate on.

Our choice eventually concentrated on the Tavira area. For many reasons; affordability being the primary one. Properties in the west had already been snapped up by various Northern European outsiders, and price-wise, had gone through the roof (pun intended). We also preferred the quieter lifestyle in this 'more agricultural' part of the Algarve. Not for us the disco's, wine bars and nightclubs. Let the tourists have those!

The constant 600-kilometre round trips took their toll, and we began to get a bit dispirited with the lack of success. There were several properties available, but none of them met our criteria. You only needed to drive past boxer Frank Bruno's massive 'castle' only so many times before you began to realise that absentee landlords were inflating the local property values here, too!

We knew enough about the building and planning laws to appreciate that although things looked bleak, we might be lucky enough to spot that vacant bit of farmland with a run-down building on it, that could turn out to be just the haven we were searching for. Putting up a NEW building is tantamount to a bureaucratic nightmare, but if the land you buy already has a 'roof' on it, you are free to 'repair' the existing structure. And the same rule applies to any structure on the land that previously had a 'roof' - cow shed, pig pen, horsey thingy, whatever. Intending to exceed the square-footage of the existing roofed areas would require one to re-apply for planning permission, of course, but since the local planning departments hold only 2-dimensional paper maps, nobody is in a position to work out how HIGH the original structure was. And if those structures have already 'fallen down', all the better. Ah, ha!

So we continued looking ...