Wheel of fortune
And why you should help us do this thing...
It was my first live auction and despite being online it was still very exciting.
Exciting enough for me to keep on asking Ana if she was sure she didn’t want to bid on that too-small corner cupboard or a dining room table which she’d already dismissed as being not our style.
We’re trying to find unique pieces of furniture and create our own interior décor, and so agreed to bid on a few bedside tables, a Chinese cabinet, a “possible dresser”, three camel seats and some candlesticks...oh, and a fruit machine.
We had started the online bidding for these a few days before – along with an old framed map of Portugal, a Japanese painting, some clay pots and a patio furniture set.
But a flurry of emails informed us we’d been outbid on pretty much all of them by the time the live auction began.
Being an Auction House in the Algarve, it’s a long way from us in the Alentejo, and so we opted for the live streaming option from home rather than being in the room.
The next four hours were spent watching the lots come and go while learning phrases like “fair warning” which was usually said before the gavel was finally swung.
It was addictive and it was fun and Ana mostly protected me from myself.
We began with the very best of intentions, but when the final lot was sold and the fantasy world of the bidding bubble burst, we were the proud new owners of a box of brass candlesticks, two Thai coffee pots, a second-hand PVC window...and an Italian Job movie-themed fruit machine.
What a bargain.
Candlesticks aside, flashing minis and Michael Caine in full cockney are a must-have for any self-respecting Portuguese wine-themed eco-luxe lodge. Aren’t they?
Ana’s excitement over the slot machine quickly faded when she realised it wasn’t a pinball machine...and then there was the small matter of transporting it from the Algarve.
Having checked it was OK to move the thing horizontally, I attached the trailer to Cassie the Hilux and Simon the dog and I headed to Faro for a little adventure.
On arrival, the auctioneer overruled his colleague and advised we went vertical...with early 2000s electronics and no guarantee it would make it home in good working order.
A full hour of faffing later and the fruit machine was riding the Toyota like a 50-cal gunner on a Somali Technical battle car – strapped upright to the cab, head poking over the top – and the hardtop was bouncing around in the back of the trailer...along with the PVC window.
Avoiding motorways and low bridges Simon and I slowly wound our way back up to the Alentejo and despite a light shower we all made it home in good working order.
As soon as Ana and I had managed to extract the thing from the truck and hauled it inside, Michael Caine started shouting about “it’s a big job lads” and chastising us for doing more than blowing bloody doors off while lights flashed and Rule Britannia blared out of the back.
Cor blimey. Take i’ fro’ me lads, ‘e aint arf laird.
Thankfully the sellers were thoughtful enough to include a bag of old one pound coins and 50p pieces, and once again we found ourselves spinning the wheel of fortune.
Please indulge me for extending the metaphor, but everything we’re doing here for our building project does feel like a bit of a gamble even though we’re still backing ourselves with reasonable odds of success.
The to-do list is so long it often paralyses me when I try and work out where to start.
I sometimes fall back on digging weeds out of the gravel, or pulling up tall and woody esteva rock rose plants (a fire risk best dealt with by uprooting when the soil is soaked)...simply to see progress and feel like I’m doing something.
There’s obviously a secret to getting everything in line – whether it be cherries or water infrastructure – but just like my new relationship with Michael Caine...it’s probably going to be a while before we hit the jackpot.
There are just so many tricks to learn: knowing when to go high when the odds say you should go low and guessing when to hold or what to nudge first.
The answer to that is the plumber...who still hasn’t replaced all the 90 degree bends in the water pipes emerging from the buildings.
The great thing about owning the keys to a fruit machine is you can’t lose...and that’s where the reel life/real life parallel ends.
We have a lot to lose – we’ve ploughed all our savings into this crazy off-grid project and it’s reaching a crucial stage.
And that’s why today – in my 125th despatch from the Valley of the Stars – more than three years into this off-grid adventure, I’m asking you to help us to do what we need doing right now...if you can.
This blog isn’t just personal therapy, it’s an amazing support group, it’s the source of comforting messages, of advice and assistance.
But with just a few months to go before we need to get our place open, now is the time to act: come and stay, roll up your sleeves and help us get it over the line.
I’ve been having recurring landslide nightmares – mostly because we have had a real life landslide nightmare where the heavy rain and our post-fire extreme bulldozer gardening to shore up the dam caused a pretty dramatic collapse, but it’s also perhaps a deeper metaphor for our precarious project.
According to our contract, the building should be finished this month, but amid additions and delays our pursuit of fixed timelines for the various threads of jobs have been brushed off with a nasty case of builder’s shrug.
We don’t know when the PVC people will come and throw the bloody doors in but we’re told it’ll be soon and then we’ll have space for volunteers to stay.
I realised just how important it is to get help when I received a phone call from Northumberland which gave me a rare moment of calm – it was Alan Gledson and Marge offering to come out again for ten days and help us out.
They are a force of nature. We need forces of nature to inspire us, encourage us, motivate us and work with us.
So if you are strong and active, up for a challenge, have a week free and can get over here, we can offer you free lodgings and time to explore Europe’s last wild coast in exchange for donating time and experience to us.
We need help with the following:
Aggressive tree planting
Digging and seeding land so it’s green by May
Painting walls
Reconstructing a footpath
Building things with wood and concrete
Transforming a shipping container into storage rooms and water filtration station: insulated, painted, en-roofed
Creating a car park with grow-through concrete bricks and sand
Landscaping gravel and wood chips
Turning a concrete box into a wine cellar
This crazy schedule isn’t for everyone, and of course the alternative to grafting is coming here to relax once we’re open and supporting us by staying in our lodge!
If you’d like to come and see us please drop us a line but also fill out this form...we’ll get an idea of what you have experience doing and when you might be available.
Thank you so much...I’m sorry to ask, but it would really help us right now.
And if you come we’ll provide free access to the fruit machine...once I’ve found the volume control...but as Michael Caine keeps telling me: “Cor blimey...it’s a big job.”
Oh, and if you have any pre-2017 pound coins or post-1997 fifty pence pieces do bring them when you visit for the machine...we trade them for wine.
does “you were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off” have anything to do with the fruit machine? Or was it just your excitement at Rule Britannia?
Will you make a shorter blurb so it can be shared on Facebook? Wish Mike and I could come!