Another yellow bird, up high...

He could have stayed a bit stiller, but I musn't grumble - about time I learned to adjust the shutter speed. I'm not sure if the bird in the extra photos is the female, or a young 'un.

I didn’t intend to get up at 7.30 on a cold Sunday morning – at most, to let the dogs loose and then dive back under the covers. Well, I did dive back, but sleep eluded me (HH doesn’t have this problem) and I didn’t stay there for long. Later, I walked the dogs while HH and the caretaker’s wife maneuvered the old washing machine out and the ‘new’ one in. Although it seems HH was more of a spectator, as she just seized the old one in her arms and womanhandled it round the corner.
 
Then to the golf club, where we joined a couple of friends on the 6th. I drove straight into the river, followed by a further two balls on the 9th, where we cross it twice. The star turn, however, was my topped drive on the 7th, which ricocheted off a low concrete rim at the front of the tee and nearly made it back to the men’s tee (I felt honour bound to buy the beers afterwards). HH meantime was quietly totting up the points he would have scored if we were playing Stapleford – 21 on the first nine – this because his handicap has quadrupled since he first came to Brazil, with most of the increase in the last four years. He'd better start playing more regularly, put some cards in and get it back to a respectable level.

I abandoned after 9  holes to wander round with the camera. I was spoiled for choice – the birds were cooperative (more used to people than the ones at home), the peach blossom (or maybe it's cherry blossom) was out, and the ground under one of the trees was carpeted with red flowers that looked like a cross between a toucan’s beak and a cashew. A sharp little breeze was blowing and the peach blossoms seemed to be shivering with cold.

We had a worrying conversation with Valerio, the barman-cum-everything, while we ate the delicious steaks he served up for us. The caterer died suddenly just two weeks ago and the club so far has just left Valério to cope with everything on his own – and with no time off at all. Previously, he was paid by the club, but basically worked for the caterer, who was having great trouble making ends meet, as so little goes on at the club these days. When he died, it was Valério who found the body, notified the doctor, the police and the family, made all the funeral arrangements, sat up all night with the family - and then had to cater for the inauguration cocktail for the new president, on the same day as the funeral. Since then, he has been doing all the purchasing, paying the kitchen staff, manning the bar and somehow managing to balance the accounts. A ridiculous situation and something must be done about it pronto.

It was dark and even colder by the time we got home, so we lit the fire, then I car-walked the dogs to help warm them up. Poor Dookie must be suffering, with his short coat. He won’t sleep in his kennel, so the best we can do is use it as a wind break and put a blanket down for him beside it.