On my return from the loo I walk across to Mo, as I wanted to seek her thoughts on the UK’s General Election that took place on 4th July. You may remember we were away in the Algarve but organised a proxy vote. It was strange not being in the country on the actual day, feeling the growing anticipation as the Voting Stations close and the counting begins; the first results are often declared around 0200. Was there going to be a new government with a large majority, a small majority or the need for a coalition? The latter are rare in British politics, there only being two in my lifetime (Note 1), the most recent a Conservative/Liberal one that governed between 2010 and 2015. The polls this time suggested a large majority for the Labour Party under the leadership on Sir Keir Starmer.

For those unfamiliar with Britian, we have a party in government and an official opposition. The latter have senior figures who cover the actions of the Government ministers; collectively they are known as the Shadow Cabinet. If the Opposition Party wins a General Election, the following morning the outgoing Prime Minister tenders his or her resignation to the sovereign and the Leader of the Opposition is asked to form a government. The ‘Shadow Cabinet’ generally flip into their ‘cabinet’ roles and within 24 hours it’s all change. It’s quite brutal compared with, say, the election of the president in the USA. Their elections take place in November but he or she is not sworn in until January the following year.  

Mo taught history so will certainly have a view!

“So, all done and dusted! We were away but pleased to see Peter Kyle’s retained his seat (Ed. our local MP)”

“Yes. I have dealt with him on a number of issues and he always responds. Think he’s been made Secretary of State for Science, Innovation and Technology. Not bad for a man who’s very dyslexic. God knows what this new government will make of the situation the Conservative Party have left the country in?”

“I am reminded of that note that Liam Bryne, the outgoing Chief Secretary to the Treasury, left for his successor Liberal Democrat minister David Laws in 2010: ‘Dear Chief Secretary, I am afraid there’s no money left. Good Luck!’

The Political Map of the UK after the 2024 election

“Ha! Ha! Didn’t the Conservative Reginald Maudling write something similar?”

“Yes. His note to James Callaghan in 1964 said: ‘Good luck, old cock …. Sorry to leave it in such a mess!’ It’s been interesting, Mo, the comments about how the ‘First Past The Post’ (FPTP) electoral system skews the results.”

“Did you see the possible distribution of MPs there would have been if our electoral system was not FPTP?”

“What? Like Proportional Representation (PR)?”

“Yes! Based on a percentage of votes cast for each party, Labour would have had 236 as opposed to 411, the Conservatives 157 and not 121, Reform (Ed. A right-wing version of the Conservatives and new to British politics) 94 and not 5.”

“Wow! And the Green’s would have done much better, with 42 seats and not just 4!”

Mo scratches her head. “Interestingly, not enough people in the UK like PR or any other system! There was a referendum in 2011 asking for a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to the question: “Do you want the United Kingdom to adopt the ‘alternative vote’ system instead of the current ‘First Past the Post’ system for electing Members of Parliament to the House of Commons?” (Note 2) Twenty million people (68%) said ‘no’ so we’ve kept FPTP. But they didn’t ask the same question about PR!”

“Mo, I need to get going; lovely to talk to you as always. But before I go, you read that Françoise Hardy has died? Most of the men in my age group fell head over heels in love with her, the antithesis of another French woman, Brigitte Bardot.

Even now her ‘Tous les garçons et les filles de mon âge’ and the heavily accented English version of ‘All Over the World’ drift in and out of my memory.

 ….  and you read that Donald Sutherland died? Such a great actor; maybe we can talk more about his legacy at another time?”

Just as I get up, Robert comes over to our table. He’s a lovely chap but normally he doesn’t engage with us regular customers much. Maybe his conversation with Lisa some months ago about his journalism career has prompted him to make an effort.

“Thought I’d join you and pick your brains about the Euro 2024 Football competition and England’s performance?”

I can see Mo is raring to get stuck in but I have already decided it’s time for me to leave. Don’t get me wrong, I like watching any sport at an international level and applaud those who dedicate their lives to it, be it Rugby, Athletics, Riding, Sailing, Rowing, Golf or even curling, but maybe not darts ……! My friend Eddie in Weymouth tells me that club football is full on, a real tussle of opposing sides with good attacking play, but it seems when they are chosen to represent the country, they behave like a group of individuals. I had watched the last 15 minutes or so of some of England’s Euro 2024 matches and after two minutes was bored to tears; continual passing sideways, backwards to the goalie, passing to each other … and there’s me thinking they’re meant to get the ball into the far goal.

Robert’s already offering his opinion of the English manager Gareth Southgate, the chap lauded for bringing so much success to the England team. “Second again!! We English love the runners-up …. and why does he insist on chewing gum all the f**king time?”

“Listen guys! Football’s not really my thing and I need to get going, so I’ll leave you to it. Have fun!”

And with a wave to Sami, Lisa and Josh, I make my exit.

Richard 26^th July 2024

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 In 1974

Note 2 The Electoral Commission criticised the wording, saying ‘that those with lower levels of education or literacy found the question hard work and did not understand it.’ But we expect everyone to vote?

Back from Portugal, I popped into The Hope Café on the off chance of catching both Sami and Mo. Josh is on his own behind the counter and the café is quite busy, with customers tucking into some of the delicious Brazilian sweets offered by Theresa. There’s a contented buzz of conversation and everyone’s keeping their voices low enough not to irritate others. I hate it when the noise from nearby tables in a café or restaurant makes hearing those at yours impossible.

Sami and Lisa are at the same table, although both are head-down into their iPads, so I sense I can interrupt Sami.

“Hey! Sami!”, just glancing at Lisa who looks up in acknowledgement, “You remember last time we spoke you were telling me about things you’d learned from that ‘Atlantic’ book …..” (See PC 392 Hope Continues)

“About the sea snails that produce a purple dye the Romans used to signify Imperial power and ……”

“And you said it was worth three times the value of gold at that time …..

“That’s right!

“Well, if you read the first of my three postcards about Croatia and Montenegro (PC 390 Tales of Croatia June 2024) I imagine you were as surprised as I was to understand that in AD 1000 salt was more valuable than gold. Er! Hang on! ……  what was I going to tell you? …. ah! yes! ….. sorry ….. memory lapse …. in Portugal I was reading the latest thriller from Danish author Jussi Adler-Olsen, ‘The Shadow Murders’, and one of the main characters refers to a 2002 book by Mark Kurlansky titled ‘Salt: A World History.’

“You’re going to trump my story of sea snails with one about salt?”

“How about the fact that the word ‘salary’ comes from the word ‘salt’ and how about Kurlansky suggesting a monopoly on salt in France was a contributing factor in the 1789 revolution? You’ll also remember the 1982 film Ghandi with Ben Kingsley? Ghandi opposed the salt monopoly of the British Empire in India with his 1930 peace march; his followers collected salt from evaporated sea water in breach of the law.”

“I thought you were going to remind me of Sodom and Gomorrah, how they were destroyed and that Lot’s wife defied a warning not to look on their destruction. She was turned into a pillar of salt!” he said smiling.

“Poor woman – not funny! You were in The Algarve just before us so when you flew into Faro you probably saw some salt pans on the flat shoreline …. the continuing Salt Connection ……

My God! I’ve just remembered something from 1968 ….!”

“About salt?”

“No, about the word salary ….”

“Go on”

“Here in the UK salary is used to denote an annual pay package, usually paid in twelve monthly amounts, and was used by the professions. ‘Workers’, that word that has many connotations, were paid a wage, normally given weekly. In the Armed Forces in the ‘60s officers were paid a salary and soldiers were paid a weekly wage. There was no charge for food and accommodation, although that changed in 1970 when pay scales increased and there were modest charges for food and accommodation. Most soldiers did not have a bank account so every fortnight or month, I can’t remember which, each sub-unit had a Pay Parade; just writing this sounds so archaic, so unbelievably old-fashioned! My troop’s NCOs and gunners, some 30 individuals, formed up in a vehicle shed. I sat at a wooden 6ft table, an essential piece of equipment (Note 1), with the Army Pay Corps clerk who had all the records.

Just an illustration – this is not Lance Bombardier Batchelor, nor me!

The process went as follows:

I read out a name, for example: ‘Lance Bombardier Batchelor’

Batchelor would march up to the table and salute; the pay clerk would give me Batchelor’s pay book and an envelope with his wages. I checked that it was correct, told Batchelor how much he had that month (deductions were made, for instance, for lost kit) and counted out the pounds, shillings and pence in front of him. (pre-decimal days huh!) (note 2). He signed against the date, announced in a clear loud voice: “Pay and Pay Book correct Sir!”, saluted, turned around and marched back. The next chap was called forward …….”

“You’re not making this up, Richard? This actually happened?”

“A fond memory of a more innocent time perhaps, but yes! So thank you for reminding me.”

“No problem! Incidentally we found The Algarve delightfully warm but rather a warm version of here; so many English own homes, rent a villa or come out on a package holiday that it’s often the only language you hear in the shops and restaurants. A good break though; explored the south of Portugal and ventured into Spain, with one night in Cadiz. Thought about those Phoenicians who founded it and then years later went on to find those little sea snails …..”

“Think these sea snails are like bad pennies, keep turning up!”

“You came down from Estoril to the Algarve for three days; enjoyable?”

“The Vilalara Resort reminded me of the setting of that 1967 television series The Prisoner, as some guests and the staff moved around on little electric golf buggies! Nice weather, three swimming pools and a beach; a mixture of hotel rooms and private apartments often used as Timeshares. By the way, did you organise your proxy vote in time?”

“Yes, got a neighbour to do it for us. You?”

“Yup! The MP for Hove, Peter Kyle, is an interesting chap, isn’t he, and he deserved to win. Listen, I see Mo over there; I need to pick her brains about something, and I need to pop to the loo. Good to talk to you, Sami; hope the rest of the day goes well for you and Lisa ….. see you.”

To be continued …….

Richard 19^th July 2024

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Known in Army language as ‘Tables. GS. 6ft’. The GS stood for General Service.

Note 2 For comparative purposes, the average wage in the UK was £46 per week; a private soldier would earn £32. As a Second Lieutenant my salary was circa £3000.

Britain’s love affair with the Portuguese Nation goes back a long way, some say they have been an ally of ours for 600 years, and modern Britain’s liking for this small country of some 11 million shows no sign of abating. Over 45,000 have made it their first or second home, with the majority choosing to be in the Algarve, although significant numbers live in both Lisbon and Porto.

The Targus estuary looking west. The city of Lisbon is on the right.

Many Brazilians, estimated in 2022 to be around 360,000, live in Portugal, drawn by the shared language and a generally safer environment to bring up children than in some parts of Brazil. Celina’s brother Carlos made the move in 2016 and hasn’t regretted it. Such are the shared history and values, the Portuguese airline TAP operate two direct flights to Rio de Janeiro and three to São Paulo every day.

One of the popular restaurants in Rio de Janeiro is Guimas, in the suburb of Gavea, and it’s been frequented by the Rocha Miranda family since it opened in the 1980s. Its name is a contraction of the surnames of the two couples who started it, Priscilla & Ricardo Guimarães and Tintim & Chico Mascarenhas. In February this year Domingas Mascarenhas, the daughter of one of the owners, opened a clone in Cascais and it’s already a big hit with the local Brazilian ex-pat community.

In another life I lived in Battersea and in 2006 a lovely couple lived next door; we lost touch. Anders, a Norwegian, messaged me via LinkedIn in 2022 and, in the exchange, revealed he and his wife Chloe were living in Cascais. We have met up during our visits to Estoril and this year were invited to Chloe’s birthday party. (Note 1) Do you look forward to going to a party, helping someone you know celebrate an event or do you make an excuse and hope they will believe the white lie – ‘I’m going down with Covid and don’t want to spread it/my grandmother’s died (again)/my son’s moving school/university/flat’?

It’s a wonderful word ‘eclectic’; you can sort of get your tongue around it! And so it was with Chloe’s guests, a ‘broad range of backgrounds, nationalities and personalities’. There was Bill, a dead-ringer for Wild Bill Hickock ….

…. who lives in Boston and comes to Portugal for a month to play golf.

I always find it a challenge to introduce myself to someone I don’t know, but Barry took the biscuit.

“Hello! I’m Richard and this is my wife Celina.”

“Barry; I am almost 80. What was your name? Serrine, Selina, Sharine?”

“Celina”

“I am not very good at names. I am 80.”

Not sure whether he wanted a medal or a kick up the proverbial?

In the UK we’ve got our knickers in a twist about the sensitivity of asking individuals where they come from. Some years ago, in Amber House we had a delightful couple of doctors, Maya, of Scottish/Japanese parents and Opel, who had very Eurasian features and, when asked, said he came from Nottingham. What I really wanted to understand was where his parents or even grandparents came from!

Chloe’s friends Gitu and Sunnil, sister and brother, were very chatty, and actually live across the valley from Celina’s mother’s apartment. Gitu volunteered they had been born in Bombay, which said a lot as it’s been Mumbai since 1995 (!), but their parents moved to Lagos in Nigeria when they were 5 or 6. At some point they must have moved to the UK, but I don’t remember when and maybe wasn’t told why. You remember the Ugandan dictator Idi Amin in 1972 expelling those 50,000 ‘South Asians’ (Indians) who had arrived during the colonial period and who had come to dominate the country’s economy? Most settled in the United Kingdom; maybe Nigeria did the same.

The theory of ‘six degrees of separation’ suggests that all people are six or fewer social connections away from each other. Intriguing, huh! At the party I experienced this in real life! Briefly, I (1) met Eleanor (2), a Russian-English woman who has a daughter (3), who’s great friends of the daughter (4) of Valentine Low (5) (Note 2), who’s the cousin of Katrina (6), my (1) first wife. Boom boom!

And there were others, like Brazilian Eduardo, studying engineering at the University of Lisbon, his father Eduardo, Chloe’s Kick-Boxing instructor, and his mother Stephanie, who were fun to talk to.

Toni’s daughter Ana (Note 3), who lives in Rio de Janeiro, and younger son Eduardo, who lives in Dubai, were already in Portugal when we arrived on the 18^th June but all three travelled north to Guimaraes and Viano do Castelo the following day. On their return Eduardo flew back to Dubai and Ana settled down in the Estoril apartment …… and three days later tested positive for Covid! We have all relaxed after the dark days of death and lockdowns, possibly being a little blasé about it – “Oh! There’s no need to wear a mask’!” – but there has been a marked increase in the number of confirmed cases, certainly in the UK and in Estoril Covid testing kits have become difficult to buy.  

Night follows day, as the expression goes, so a couple of days later Toni tested positive! We had plans to drive down to the Vilalara Resort in the Algarve, mid-way between Lagos and Vilamoura but his continuing positivity required a rethink.

Eventually only Celina and I flew from Lisbon to Faro for our three nights.

Couldn’t resist this delightful conversation by the pool

We flew back from Faro on a BA Euroflyer aeroplane operated by Titan Airways. Wonderful to be in a new Airbus 351; not so good to find the runway obstructed on our approach – abort the landing, power on, into a holding pattern then land ten minutes later, safely!

Richard 12^th July 2024

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Is it still considered good manners not to reveal a woman’s age?

Note 2 Valentine’s a journalist, past Royal Correspondent for The Times, and author of ‘Courtiers: The Hidden Power Behind The Crown’ (2022)

Note 3 Ana is a digital nomad, working for the Brazilian on-line company Nubank – “The Future is the reason we make plans”, but by choice lives and works in Rio de Janeiro.

Some of you may remember scenes from the 1982 film Sophie’s Choice? In one, Sophie, played by Meryl Streep, is in an apartment in New York, chatting quietly to a friend about her life, and the choices she had had to make. In the background you can hear not only the noise of the city, but also the inevitable sounds of laughter, of crying, of shouting, of other people, living in their apartments in the building.

I am no stranger to living in what I gather is called a multi-occupancy building, having lived in Army Officers’ Messes until I got married. When Celina and I first moved into the newly converted Amber House in 2012, we naively imagined that all the other twelve apartment owners would live there! We had our first Amber House Supper Party and hosted 22 people. Then we began to realise individuals bought property for different reasons, for a home, for a rental investment, as a second home and the people who live in the house would reflect this reality.

If you wanted a little microcosm of life in England, you need look no further than our last ten years in Amber House, and that’s not looking for the ghosts of the older people who lived here when it was originally Dresden House and a home for ‘distressed gentlewomen’.

So, some illustrations:

 Alice was a semi-retired journalist …. but lonely. Along came Mike, charmed his way into her heart, promised her the world and delivered zilch. She found salvation in a bottle of wine. One Sunday evening she appeared at our apartment door, swaying and slurring her words, clearly needing help. She’d lost her own key (a spare was with a neighbour who wasn’t in!) ….. and probably her mobile …. and had no money. One couldn’t help feeling anything but pity and sorrow – we popped her into a local hotel, paid her night’s accommodation and she promised to get in touch. She disappeared! Two months later I cleared some of the bottles from her empty apartment as she sat on the floor. A month later she’d died – she was in her mid-60s!

One of my triptychs around our apartment door

A loud unexpected crash in the middle of the night had me looking for the culprit. James and Edward had obviously had a lovely night and, until it was time for Edward to go home, everything had been OK. Making his way down the wide stairs, Edward missed his footing and tumbled. A flying foot made contact with the large wrought-iron balusters, knocking three out.

“Evening Sir! I am making enquiries about noise from the apartment above you!” said the policewoman. “Have you heard anything?” Well, we had and we knew the chap renting it and we’d heard the ‘ding dong ding dong’ of a heated argument – but it was only later when Peter was back from hospital and he came to explain what had happened did we see the cut on his face from a flying handbag! Domestic abuse!

“You don’t know me, but I found this in my car, which has been broken into.” The woman had rung our doorbell and was holding a little bag. In the words of a friend of mine – ‘long story short’: one of the Amber House apartments has been rented to a couple – it transpires the chap’s got a criminal record for handling drugs and has a liking for expensive watches. The ‘this’ the woman had found in her car was a receipt for a Rolex watch in his name from a jeweller in Brighton, from a couple of years ago. No one can get to the bottom of this particular story and, short of confronting Kris, an uncommunicative and somewhat menacing chap, we never will. Time to move on, turn the page …..

“I have come to say goodbye Richard. I am off home to Jamaica for Christmas.” said Ivy who lived with her adult daughter in the apartment across the hall. Ivy was in her late 80s and had retained that wonderful rich accent, despite living in England for decades.

“Will you be coming back, Ivy?”

There was a long drawn-out “No.” followed by “I don’t think so!”, her enigmatic smile broad across her face, repeating her declaration: “I don’t think so!” Her son hasn’t told us to the contrary, so we assume Ivy is still with us, well into her 90s.

Others have experienced a neighbour above them thoughtfully working in their mini-gym – with all the attended personal and mechanical noises associated with exercise. A misdirected letter caused us alarm a few years ago; a bailiff threatening to ‘remove goods to the value of £500’ over some unpaid bill. I told them the person didn’t live in our apartment, or in any other apartment in the building for that matter, but that didn’t stop our doorbell being rung at 0230. The Entryphone camera revealed two unsavoury characters …. we didn’t respond! Amongst those renting, we have had a chap who used to work at Rolls Royce as a leather matcher, a couple who were both locum doctors, two men who worked in The Ivy in Brighton, a landscape gardener and his Art teacher partner and a couple whose middle names were Richard and Celine (not to be confused with that couple who live in Apartment 2!)

But all the incidents of the last 12 years are overshadowed by Cameron’s death. Cameron and his partner Chatrin lived in an apartment two floors above us. Cameron was assaulted in Brighton in the early hours of 21^st December 2020, was taken to hospital, given a thorough health check and discharged. At home in Amber House his condition deteriorated over the next few days and he died on Boxing Day, following multiple organ failure and sepsis (See PC 334 Sepsis May 2023); he was 34. Four years on, no one has been charged with the assault and the family have no closure; disgraceful!

My pen and ink sketch of Amber & Gilmour Houses

Writing about Amber House should not be complete without some mention of our landlord, Southern Housing, but I have run out of space so will have to leave that for some future postcard – sounds gripping huh!

Richard 5^th July 2024

The Algarve, Portugal

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk