My "faith"

I have never considered myself to be very religious - I was born into an Anglican (Church of England) family, and christened, but we were not regular church goers. My Mother was born in Denmark, and, though I am not certain, I think belonged to the Evangelical Lutheran Christian Church (the commonest one in Denmark), but later naturalised as British following her marriage to my Father. I don't think my grandparents, who we lived with until I was about 4, were churchgoers, either, though I am not sure if that was because my grandfather was an invalid (gassed in the Great War) and couldn't get out and about much.
Around 1963 my primary school teacher invited me to join our local church choir, and we had practice on a Thursday, and then sang at the main service on Sunday, as well as at occasional weddings on Saturday - I do not recall my parents ever attending (it was only a short walk from home) and I was not doing it for any spiritual reason.
I do not recall many family "church" occasions growing up, certainly not until we lived in Mozambique in the late 60's and an Anglican vicar used to come to the sugar estate we lived on at Christmas and hold a service in a private home for a small group of ex-pats - Catholicism was the main religion there. I went to boarding school in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) and the Anglican Chapel was a main part of daily life - we had a short morning service every day, singing practice on Saturday, and had to attend either the morning or evening services (but could, of course, attend both if we wanted) on Sunday. Attendance was compulsory, and there was punishment for any who were caught "bunking" off.
I was never "confirmed", not through choice, but the subject never came up and I never enquired into it, and it never concerned me that I couldn't attend communion, as it was not that big a deal for me.
After school I went to university in South Africa and occasionally on a Sunday, with some friends, we would attend a service at the closest Anglican church - not always the same one - but I cannot recall doing it because of any religious fervour, but simply because it seemed acceptable and something to do on a Sunday. Towards the end of my first year there were some demonstrations in Cape Town, resulting in the police charging the demonstrators, and even chasing them into an Anglican church, something they would never have done had it been a Dutch Reformed Church, the principal one of South Africa - and this created a ripple of dissent throughout the country, mainly in the universities, with peaceful protests being held outside the campuses. The government decided to clamp down and imposed a "riotous assemblies" act, making it illegal for more than 3 people to gather in one place! The demonstrators got round this by "marching" to church on Sunday, and the whole tenor of the services became political, with sermons condemning the government. This bothered me and my friends - a lot! We felt that the church had been usurped and was being used as a political, not a spiritual, tool, and we stopped attending. I think it was around this time that I started questioning my faith, and whether I really believed in the church and what it stood for, and whether I even believed in the existence of God.
I had studied Divinity at school, and even have an "O" level in it! We had briefly touched on comparative religions, and it appeared to me that almost all religions were really closely related, in that they all had one supreme deity (or God), though some of the interpretations of the "will of God" varied wildly. I started thinking about the fact that many wars had, in fact, been "Holy" wars, fought over religion and religious beliefs - "My God is better than your God!", when in fact they were one and the same. People were still fighting over religion, fighting over something that represented tolerance, acceptance of others, turning the other cheek. and even loving your fellow men. It suddenly made no sense to me.
I also found it extremely difficult to come to terms with the "heavenly Father", who was supposedly so powerful, as after all he had created this earth we lived on, allowing people to suffer from floods, earthquakes, tempests, and so on - all natural disasters, not man-made, so surely must have been created by "Him"? Many of those who suffered were the poorest souls on earth, living in areas most susceptible to these natural disasters, and the richest nations were able to cope better with these tribulations. Someone I mentioned this to said that they were "sinners" being punished, but that implies that poor people eking out a living, in the only place they can live, in the path of a hurricane must be more evil than those who live in "safe" cities? You are less of a sinner because you can buy a strong house in a city that doesn't suffer natural disasters? I am sorry, but that doesn't sit well with me. Also how can a religion that preaches forgiveness, tolerance, and love, and tells us that God loves us all and will forgive us all, justify so much suffering? Where is the love and forgiveness?
I got married in an Anglican church (my ex-wife was brought up Catholic), and my daughter was christened in a church, and we, as a family, occasionally attended church, usually regularly at Easter and Christmas, but occasionally at other times too - and especially during a period when my daughter attended a group called Praise Kids (sort of an extension of Sunday School) who used to perform at some services. By now the services had become less formal, and were more "happy clappy" with regular shouts of "hallelujah", and this turned me off even more - towards the end of the service we were supposed to mingle in the pews and "hug a friend", which I found uncomfortable. So it was with some relief when she outgrew Praise Kids! We still, as a family, attended Easter and Christmas services, but I always felt it was more out of a sense of moral obligation to the small community we lived in (we lived in that area for almost 30 years - and my ex still lives there).
My landlady here in Peru claims to be a Christian, but not "religious" - she (a qualified psychologist who used to lecture at university) claims there is a difference between being a Christian and being religious, and does not attend a conventional church. Her favourite farewell is "Blessings", and her conversation is sprinkled with references to the favours bestowed upon us by God. She is aware that I consider myself to be an agnostic, and appears to accept this, as I think, secretly, she believes I will convert to a fully fledged believer one day - however she cannot tolerate homosexuality (there was a programme on local TV one day and she harped on about that being a deadly sin for days afterwards!), and will not accept that we evolved from animals, or that the human being is actually part of the "animal" kingdom. I asked her once, when she was going on about the sin of homosexuality, about the Bible's take on tolerance, and the fact that many passages therein are open to different interpretation, and she simply replied that on the subject of homosexuality Christianity was very clear, and it was a mortal sin! I couldn't believe how an intelligent woman could be so closed-minded about many things, and accept the Bible's teachings (at least those that she liked!) as being the absolute truth!
As things stand I have not been to church for approaching 15 years, and the last time I went (to a service in Peterborough Cathedral) it was a memorial service for a friend. I certainly do not consider myself to be an atheist, but rather an agnostic - I find it difficult to accept the existence of anything that is not provable. OK, Christianity - the belief in God and Christ - is a fact, but the existence of God cannot be proved. That is where "faith" comes in - the blind belief that there must be something pulling all our strings, and this is where my faith founders, as I cannot accept that without some sort of concrete evidence, and people telling me "I have seen God" or "God spoke to me" is not enough, at least not for me. My sister once said to me that I must be so afraid of dying if I didn't believe in God, as what did I think would happen to me in the "afterlife" - I laughed, which upset her even more, as I do not believe in that either, and told her that as far as I was concerned when my physical body dies then that is the end of me, and so I was not bothered about any "life after death", which was a contradiction in itself. The existence of a "soul" is another of those nebulous beliefs that cannot be proven, so once I am gone then I am gone forever!
I have no doubt that belief in a supreme being, in a God (whatever denomination or religion he belongs too), does help many people, and gives them comfort, but I have always felt that I do not need that crutch, that I will face the world on my own, and overcome whatever challenges I face (or be overwhelmed by them!), but that I will not blame my failings on any external force - no "Why me, Lord?" for me!

I always tell people who advise me that I must open my heart and accept God that my door is always open, and that if "He" wants to come along and have a chat and a cup of coffee then "He" is most welcome!

The "joys" of apartment living!

In Brazil I own my own house - the emphasis is on "house", as it is a detached property on a 690 sq metre plot, so there is a nice garden buffer between me and my closest neighbours. There is also a street between me and the next house on two sides, and the only other adjacent house is below and to the side, so, although they extended close to the property line, not too close to be a nuisance. It means that life there is reasonably quiet, most of the time.
in Peru, however, where I spend the other 6 months each year, I have to rent. I do have certain requirements from the property I rent, apart from price being a major factor, primarily that it has secure off-road parking for my motorbike, a kitchen with a proper cooker (many rentals here are "holiday" lets so may only have a twin-burner hotplate), and include electricity, water and internet in the price. It also, obviously, must be furnished! As I only stay for 6 months I cannot negotiate my own utility bills, as minimum contracts are usually 12 months, and clearly having my own furniture is not really an option - even though renting an unfurnished place would be cheaper. I do have quite a lot of my own things which I store, along with my bike, with a friend here - kitchen utensils, bedding, towels, and so on - as the supplied equipment with apartments is usually either "old" or inadequate.
The first year I was here I was assisted in finding somewhere by the charity I was volunteering for - in the case of most volunteers the charity sets up the accommodation beforehand, but I was left to look at their selection once I arrived. I also had to make a quick decision on the only place they had found, though I had a couple more lined up myself to look at, as the landlady had someone else interested, and for the most part I am quite happy with my choice. It is only half a block from the beach on a fairly quiet street, and is a small building with only 7 apartments, but with two separate entrances, so only 3 accessed from the same side as mine.
The apartment is one bed-roomed, but quite spacious, with a small kitchen, and a large lounge-dining room and a balcony, plus access to the roof terrace, where the washing lines are. The kitchen was not very well equipped, though did have a full cooker, so I bought some of my own things, like a set of crockery and cutlery, and kitchen knives, and a lot of the general furnishings, provided bedding and towels were pretty old - the pillows were a little musty so I bought some of those too!
Most of the other apartments were occupied by short-term tenants, and though at times a little noisy, that first year was not too bad. At the end of my stay I asked if I could book again for the following year, but the landlady was reluctant to commit so far ahead in case she lost a permanent lease by accepting my booking, so asked if I would confirm closer to my arrival date in 6 months time. However by then the apartment was already taken until a month after my arrival so I had to look elsewhere.
Although there were quite a few online adverts for apartments getting a response from the advertisers was more difficult - with many not responding, and some of the email addresses bouncing back as "unknown" - so in the end I arrived the following March, booked into a hostel for a week and started apartment hunting! As it was just before Easter there was not much available, particularly for the 6 month period I required, but eventually I responded to a large advert outside a new building and they had a brand-new 3 bedroomed apartment available. It was much bigger - and more expensive - that I needed, but was beautifully appointed, if a little further from the beach, so I took it for the full 6 months. The English-speaking landlord gave me a special price based on 6 months occupancy, and a single occupancy rebate, but it was still a lot more than I had paid the previous year. One downside to this apartment was that other apartment in my floor, which was going to be the owner/landlord's apartment, was not yet finished, so there was a lot of construction noise for the next two months!
At the end of my second stay in Peru I started looking for somewhere for the following year - the apartment I was in was great, but really too expensive, so I needed something smaller and cheaper. I looked at two other one-bedroomed apartments nearby, one advertised parking available, but when I asked about it they said the parking was already  taken - by their car! The other also advertised parking, but she said is was "on-street" and safe, and also the kitchen was outside the apartment, which was essentially a large bed-sit with a bathroom and balcony, across a hallway and without a door, so easily accessible by the other apartments, though she assured me it was just for "my" apartment! I declined both of these! I contacted the landlady of the apartment I had been in the first year, and she said she could only "guarantee" availability for me if I paid a deposit in advance, which in the end I did.
So year 3 I was back in the same apartment, and found that the crockery I had bought before was almost all broken, the pillows replaced with more musty ones, and I had to replace a few more things. Apart from that I spent another agreeable year in Peru, though the neighbours seemed a little noisier. Year 4 was a similar story - I again had to replace some equipment, as the supplied things were getting more decrepit, and more pillows!! The same goes for year 5 - though two apartments were now taken by long-term foreign tenants, and there was a crazy lady in the apartment below me, who blamed me for any and all noise in the building (I am like a mouse as I am only too conscious that I am sharing a small space with others and try to keep as quiet as possible), and used to harangue me often, despite me trying to convince her that it wasn't me! Eventually the landlady had to evict here as she was fighting and swearing with everyone!
Towards the end of year 5 the landlady informed me that there would not be any parking the following year as she was looking to rent the whole ground floor, including the parking courtyard, to the mini-market next door. Year 5 had been particularly noisy, too, not only the crazy lady below, but also a large group on the ground floor, and the young lady above me made quite a lot of noise (that I was being blamed for by crazy lady!), so I was not too disappointed that I would have to look elsewhere, and, in fact, the landlord from year 2 had a small apartment available, that I booked in advance!
The only "snag" with this apartment is that it was on the 5th floor (we would call it 4th, as the ground floor here is the 1st), and the stairs were a bit of a problem for my advancing years, but it was again very well appointed, though secure parking was a few blocks away, and had great views over the town. Unfortunately it was not going to be available this year, year 7, upon my arrival, and the only thing he had available was a 3 bedroomed apartment in a different building (owned by someone else but managed by him) which I could rent for 6 weeks until he had something smaller available after Easter. It was again going to be on the 5th floor, but was a lot more expensive, too, that I was willing to pay, and I wasn't that keen on moving during my stay, so I started looking elsewhere again.
There was a place I had ridden past often during my stays and I found an online advert for it - it looked nice, even though it was located in a campsite so I thought could be a bit noisy, so I contacted them and booked it for my 7th year stay in Peru. On arrival, however, they showed me to a completely different apartment - the one I had booked was not available, but they had others, which were open-plan bedsits, with a hotplate rather than a cooker, and were totally unacceptable. I had just spent over 30 hours travelling to Peru, including an overnight stay in Lima airport, and found myself without a place to stay! In desperation I called the landlord from the previous year and his wife said they might have something, so I caught a passing taxi and went to his building.
His wife (he was away) showed me another building they were managing, and another 3-bedroomed apartment, again fairly new and very well appointed, but again quite expensive! I could stay there for 2 weeks, but it was booked after that, though they would have an apartment in their building 10 days after that, meaning I needed to find somewhere for the intervening days! This was also a 5th floor apartment, and this year I was struggling even more with the stairs (bad knee, old motorbike injury, and bad ankle), so felt I needed to look for a lower floor solution.
I contacted my landlady from before and she told me "my" old apartment would be available 10 days after I moved out of the one I was in, but that she had something I could stay in until then. So I moved back into the building I had been in 5 times before. The mini-market move hadn't materialised so the parking was also available, and 10 days after moving into a large bedsit I was back in my "old" apartment!
Yet again the equipment was woefully inadequate, and as far as I can tell there is nothing new since my first stay here 7 years ago! So much so that I stored all her kitchen equipment (utensils, crockery, etc.) and am using all of my own, and again had to buy new pillows. She seems to have an endless supply of old, lumpy, musty pillows! The main gate to the parking is damaged too, though I have told her about it, and it is quite difficult to get the up-and-over gate to stay open so I can get the bike in and out! 3 months in and still nothing has been done about that!
This year there are only 2 apartments occupied besides mine, both long-term by young ladies, though both now have boyfriends staying - one above me, and one below me. The young lady below has a dog with her, and until the boyfriend moved in I never heard her - literally I could not tell if she was home or not, and never even heard the door - however now both doors are slammed shut on entry and exit! Similarly the people upstairs - the apartment door is slammed hard, sometimes more than once as they appear to have trouble closing it, on entry/exit, and just this morning (at 07.30) it was slammed 4 times in the space of 5 minutes! It appeared they were taking some things downstairs one flight then going back for more, and each time the door was slammed on entry/exit, which is several times a day! The door to the street is slammed by her too, and occasionally not even shut properly so the lock doesn't catch, leaving the property unsecured! I manage to close both my apartment door and the street door without resorting to slamming them, but then I have always been considerate towards others.
I really like this apartment - it is spacious, in a good location close to the beach where I take my daily walks, and has secure parking for my bike, but I just wish that fellow tenants would show as much consideration to other building users as I do. It is the only downside to living here, especially since I am now using my own belongings in the kitchen!! With only 2 months left this year till I return to Brazil my thoughts are turning to 2020, and whether I try and re-book, or see if I can find something quieter!!

Home comforts

Huanchaco, Peru

I own my house in Brazil, but do not have permanent residence there so can only stay - as a tourist - for 6 months of the year. The remaining 6 months I stay in a small seaside town in Peru, Huanchaco, where I rent an apartment for the duration of my stay.
The first year here (7 years ago now!) I found a decent, spacious one-bedroomed apartment close to the seafront in a nice location which was well within my budget, so rented that for the 6 months. The apartment has a separate bedroom, small kitchen, and a large sitting/dining room, leading to a good balcony, there is also a laundry area (hand washing sink), and a staircase leading to the shared roof terrace, which has a drying area.
The cooker and fridge were old, but serviceable, as really were all the furnishings, and the provided sheets (one set) and towels (one bath and one hand) were again just "adequate". The kitchen equipment, however, was dismal! One plate, cup, knife, fork, spoon, and so on, and not very good quality.
I decided that I needed to buy what I required, so made a trip to the local supermarket and stocked up with a set of cutlery, a set of crockery, a set of glassware, storage containers, some kitchen utensils, a kitchen knife set, and a few extra odds and ends (tea towels and the like!) - they were from the supermarket's economy range so not that expensive, but did make the apartment feel more like home!
Over the course of my stay I also bought some new pillows (the provided ones were lumpy and smelled a little musty), another set of towels, and a sheet set, as well as a new frying pan! I had met a lovely Peruvian family while here, who as well as two of their own children were fostering 6 others, and got to know them all very well, and as my departure approached I asked if I could leave some belongings with the, and would collect them on my return. (I did pay them a small storage fee, which helped them enormously, but they were glad to help) I packed up some of the new things I had bought, but did leave the crockery, the pillows and the frying pan in the apartment.
The following year the apartment was not available until a month after I arrived so I managed to find a different one. This was a brand new building, and I was the first tenant in that apartment - which was three-bedroomed, so much too big (and expensive!) for me on my own - which was beautifully appointed! The furnishings were top quality, included two 48" flat screen TV's (one in the lounge and the other in the master bedroom), and the kitchen items brand new and more than adequate - and included a rice cooker, liquidiser and microwave. The only downside was that the rent was almost double what I had paid the previous year, and ate into my savings.
At the end of my stay I went to see the previous landlady to see if the first apartment would be available the following year, and she hummed and harred and said she could not guarantee it that far ahead in case she got a long-term tenancy offer, but if I cared to pay a deposit now she would ensure it was available - so that is what I did.
Upon my return I was surprised to find that almost all the crockery I had left had disappeared - she said it had been broken by intervening tenants - and the pillows were also gone, with lumpy ones back in their place! The frying pan was also battered out of shape, so utterly unusable! So once I had reclaimed my belongings from my friends here so could see what I needed it was another trip to the supermarket - more pillows, glasses, mugs, frying pan and a kettle, as the handle was falling off the one supplied! I also bought some cushions - the first year I was there I was impressed by the number of cushions scattered around the living room seating, but this time there were just two lumpy ones, so I bought 4 more!
The plug for the laundry sink had also vanished, and despite my and her efforts we could not find a suitable replacement (it was a non-standard sized brass one!), so I bought some large bowls to place in the sink and do my washing.
At the end of that stay I again had to pay a deposit to guarantee it was available the following year, and yet again on my return many of the things I had left had disappeared or were damaged - bowls for laundry, pillows (more lumpy ones had materialised!), frying pan, crockery numbers had diminished again, glassware, mugs. She told me that the other tenants had broken things, but that as there were still "sufficient" for a single tenant she did not replace anything! This time I bought a better quality frying pan, and this one got added to my stored items, and not left behind!
It was a similar situation the following year as well, and, of course, things like the cooker and fridge were also in a poorer state of repair every time I returned! You may ask why I kept returning to this apartment, but it was a matter of convenience, as the location was ideal, there was secure parking for my motorbike, the price was reasonable (though the rent did go up every year!), and I had looked around and not been able to find anything else that ticked all the boxes!
As the end of my 4th stay in the apartment, and 5th in Peru, the landlady told me that there may not be any parking the following year as she was looking to let the whole ground floor as a grocery shop! I was as much concerned about noise as losing the parking, so decided to look elsewhere for the following year. The landlord I had stayed with during year 2 had built a few more small apartments so I went to see him, and provisionally booked with him, though the apartment I really wanted was unavailable, but could become free, so we left it like that.
Once back in Brazil I started worrying that if I didn't make a firm booking I could find myself without a place to stay, so booked a different small one-bedroomed apartment with him. Fortunately, though, shortly after that the preferred apartment, on the top floor, became available so I swapped to that one. Again the apartments were beautifully finished and appointed, and had access to a washing machine, but the 5 flights of stairs were a challenge to me at my advancing age, especially on arrival/departure carrying luggage, and with the weekly shopping!
At the end of year 6 I asked about availability for the next year, and unfortunately he already had nothing until 6 weeks after my arrival (there were by now 4 long-term tenants in the building), but offered me a 3 bed-roomed apartment in a building nearby he was managing for a friend for the interim. I was not enamoured with the idea of having to move, and also the rental, albeit only for 6 weeks, was very high, so I said I would think about it and get back to him, however two weeks later he emailed me the large apartment was no longer available!
I did manage to find and book another smaller apartment with someone else, but upon my arrival was shown something totally different to the one advertised, and totally unsuitable, so was at my wits end - especially after over 30 hours travel with no sleep! I called the previous landlord out of desperation, and he did have another (3 bedroomed!) apartment available (another he was managing!), but only for 3 weeks, but should have something else available in his own building after that, but that might also be 3 bedrooms! I was once more on the 5th floor, and this year was struggling much more with the stairs, so again reverted to calling my old landlady - the grocery shop idea hadn't materialised and she had been messaging me to see if I still needed somewhere. "My" apartment would only be available in 10 days, but she did have a bedsit that I could have in the meanwhile, so I took that.
Once again the lumpy pillows were back, and this time the pots and pans in the kitchen were in a poor state, so again it was a trip to the supermarket! The bowls I had previously bought for the laundry area were gone, and still no plug, so I decided this year to take my stuff to a laundry for cleaning rather than buy more bowls and buckets! The bathroom and kitchen, though, had waste bins that were so tiny (and damaged in the case of the bathroom) so I replaced them as well, and bought a set of saucepans, including a kettle, and even a draining board, and chopping boards - as well as, of course, more pillows!
Upon arrival all the provided cutlery and kitchen utensils go into a plastic bag, where they remain until I leave, and this time the pots and pans joined them too - so basically the only "supplied" things I am using this year are plates, everything else (mugs, glasses, cereal bowls, cutlery, kitchen knives, kitchen utensils, and all the pots and pans) is mine! Wear and tear on her things is minimal when I am here - I still have my own sheets and towels, which I alternate with hers when they are being washed - and I don't even use the supplied TV as I use the internet for my entertainment (in fact she removes the TV if I am not going to use it!!) - I must be the perfect tenant (I even pay the rent early if she is here a day or so before the due date to save her making a special trip out!), as I even do small repairs myself (in the past I have replaced a broken light switch - was broken when I arrived - and a leaky toilet valve!), but I treat this place as my "home away from home" and do like to maintain certain standards of comfort while I am here!

Being ill abroad

One of my biggest worries about living outside the UK, where healthcare is free through the NHS (OK, you have already paid for it in a lifetime of taxes!), though sometimes slow, is getting seriously ill. Many prescription-only medicines in the UK are available "over the counter" with little or no control in both Brazil and Peru, and pharmacists can pretty much hand out whatever they like! Simple painkillers, like Paracetamol, which in the UK you can but a pack of 16 for around £0.25 cost about £0.20 for 2, so I tend to stock up on these whenever I visit the UK.
When I first started living in Brazil I purchased "Backpackers" travel insurance, mainly because you could take out an 18 month policy whereas most others were short-term, and it covered emergency medical treatment, and even repatriation for serious injuries. I renewed a couple of times, but this was actually against the policy terms, and knowing that they would check were I to make a big claim, and refuse if I contravened these terms I eventually let it lapse (I was supposed to only take it out in the UK as well before travel!). I also looked into an overseas healthcare plan - but for over-60's these were astronomical, and would have cost almost as much as my total annual income. The cheapest one I found, but still not realistically affordable, was linked only to hospitals in the Sao Paulo area in Brazil, over 2000 miles from where I was living! So I decided to take my chances and return to the UK should I need to - bearing in mind that minor procedures would be a lot cheaper locally in Brazil or Peru than the cost of the airfare home!
I have been lucky - despite riding a motorbike out here, and having done some light walking in the Andes and in Brazil, I have remained injury free. That is, until this year! My annual trip between Brazil and Peru involves 3 flights each way, and carrying cabin luggage (laptop back-pack) and hand luggage between planes, often what seem to be ridiculously long and unnecessary distances, can be tiring, even with wheels on the holdall I use. Often by the time I reach my destination my arm and shoulder muscles are aching and take a few days to recover.
This year was no different, but exacerbated by the fact that the accommodation I had booked 5 months previously in Peru was not available, and the alternatives offered woefully inadequate. So after over 30 hours with no sleep I was on the street outside wondering what to do next! I knew of a restaurant nearby that had a couple of rooms, so started heading for there, now also lugging my heavy wheeled suitcase behind me, but then decided to call a previous landlord (who I also now consider a friend as I have known him for 6 years) to see if he had anything available. His wife answered as he was away (he works part-time as purser on a cruise liner!!) and she said they could probably help temporarily, so I should head there - and then I had to carry my bags up a further three flights of stairs! There was an apartment close by that they were managing, and that would be available from the following day, if I would like to look at it - it was having some maintenance done. We left my bags and walked round, and I decided to take it, though it was only going to be available for 3 weeks - so we went back to collect my bags, down three flights, up the road and then up the 5 flights to the new apartment - they were going to continue working and clean the place while I got some much needed sleep!!
By this time my shoulder and arm were hurting a lot, but I still put this down to the muscle strain of luggage carrying - and over the next few days it eased a little, but I had to shop for groceries and carry them up, so was not giving the aching muscles time to recover fully. After 2 weeks my shoulder in particular was hurting all the time, and one morning I reached back to rub the area ... and discovered a lump, about half the size of a tennis ball, on my shoulder-blade! Other than knowing it shouldn't be there I had no idea what t could be, so immediately went to the local health centre, where I had to wait almost three hours to see a doctor!
She examined my shoulder and suggested it was a muscular strain, but that the joint was inflamed, so prescribed pain killers and anti-inflammatory drugs, and said to return in 5 days if it was no better. The pain subsided considerably, but the lump was no different, so after 5 days I returned, but saw a different doctor this time, who sent me for an x-ray and an ultrasound. In Peru many auxiliary services like these are provided by private organisations, not the main health centres or hospitals, so I had to go to 2 different places, and then return later in the day for the results - both of which were inconclusive. I took these back to the same doctor, and he sent me for a tomography scan (at one of the places I had been to the day before), and I took the results back to him. The report said I appeared to have a "soft mass" on my shoulder-blade, and he said that the health centre could not really do any more as he felt I needed a biopsy so he referred me to a general surgeon at a local hospital.
This surgeon said he thought it was probably a cancerous tumour, but that the shoulder was a secondary location, so I needed a full tomography (chest, abdomen and pelvis) and referred me to an oncologist (with the results) at a private clinic! It was starting to get expensive with all these tests and consultation fees, and the oncologist suggested (since I didn't have insurance) that should cancer and chemotherapy be required that I should consider returning to the UK for the treatment there. I explained that it would cost me around £600 for the airfare alone so unless treatment was going to be more expensive, my best option would be to remain in Peru. The oncologist then referred me to a Traumatologist, as the scans were still "inconclusive" and she felt the "mass" was hard and possibly bony!
The Traumatologist also though the lump was bone, or possibly cartilage, and that a biopsy was needed (Hmm, where had I heard that before? Oh, yes, at the health centre before the second round of expensive tests and consults), so referred me to an endocrinologist and requested a load of blood tests first. I took them to her and my blood sugars were too high to risk the biopsy so was put on a course of pills to try and bring that down, and then, of course, more blood tests! They were still too high, so now am on more pills to bring it down (as well as my cholesterol!) and have two weeks before the next tests!
So far it has cost me more than the price of a ticket back to the UK, and I am still no closer to knowing what the problem is, and still have a large, occasionally painful, lump on my shoulder-blade - the lump isn't painful, but local muscles are. It is looking increasingly unlikely that it is cancerous, or malignant, but still needs dealing with - for me the sooner the better!

Heading home from school

At the moment we are experiencing a long spell of very hot (lows of 27C, and highs of 33C - indoors!), and very dry weather here in Brazil, and it is making sleeping very uncomfortable. I have table fans, but no air-conditioning as the normal method of house construction here is not really suitable for AC - single skin walls, no insulation in the loft space - which would make it very expensive to run, and most of the cool air would dissipate without really being effective.
It reminded me of a trip home from boarding school in Rhodesia to our home in Mozambique, and the most unpleasant night I have ever spent. I used to travel by plane from the sugar estate on the banks of the Zambezi River to Beira, and then catch a train to Rhodesia - the total journey taking around 21 hours, and occurring three times a year (three school terms), but was quite an adventure! On occasion my parents would time a holiday and collect me from school by car, and we would then drive back, usually after spending a few days on holiday as a family first. On this occasion, however, we were going straight back to Mozambique.
I had invited a school-friend to come and spend some time with me - he lived in Ethiopia at the time, where his father was a banker, and his trip home used to take close to three days! My father had a soft-top Toyota Land Cruiser at the time, and though not the most comfortable of vehicles, especially in the back which had hard benches with thin cushions, and no padded backrests, it did have a 4 litre straight 6 petrol engine and ate up the miles (and the fuel!), though the off-road tyres were a little noisy on the tarmac.

Land Cruiser, with doors removed for use on the sugar estate

Of course, back then there were also no seat-belts in such a vehicle, but on the tarred sections, with towels and a blanket to lean on, the journey was comfortable enough. It was decided we would make the trip in two stages - the first 450 kms, crossing the Rhodesia/Mozambique border and then on to Beira, and then the following day we would tackle the dirt.
The first day was uneventful - the Land Cruiser hummed along up and down the hills and valleys without missing a beat, and the border crossing was routine, taking almost no time. We had stopped for lunch in Umtali, where the Rhodesia border was, and continued on towards Beira. Dad was getting a little tired after about 7 hours driving so it was decided that instead of going through to Beira for the night, and then back-tracking the 40 kms to where the turning to home was, that we would look for a hotel and spend the night closer to the turning. In a small town called Dondo, very close to the start of the dirt road, we spotted a likely looking place and pulled in.
We booked two rooms, one for Mum and Dad, and one for Pete and I (two single beds), and after a pleasant meal in their restaurant, settled down for the night, planning an early start at first light. The place was more like a truck-stop motel, with the rooms in blocks of four in separate buildings, and very basic. They had bathrooms with showers, but no fans or air-conditioning - and it was very hot! There was one small window, but keeping that open just filled the room with mosquitoes, and though we had spray the relief was temporary so we decided to keep the window closed!
Sleep was fleeting, as the heat was so oppressive, and Pete and I spent the night taking cold (well, lukewarm, as the water was not that cold) showers and then lying on a towel to allow evaporation to cool us down a little. It gave us a little relief, but we got very little sleep, and eventually at about 03.30 we decided to go for a walk rather than stay in the room. It was cooler outside, and there was also a slight breeze, so we just wandered around for a short while, before heading back. As we passed my parents' room we noticed their light was on, so tapped on the door - they too had not got much sleep due to the heat, so we decided to leave then and continue the journey home.
The Land Cruiser is built for dirt roads, and handled everything the road threw at it. Much of this road is just two deep ruts that all traffic follows, and a previous trip in a car was extremely unpleasant, however the impressive ground clearance of the Toyota meant that even when we had to move aside when we met oncoming traffic, it was no big deal. What was a big deal, though, was that it was really uncomfortable in the back! The makeshift blanket backrests wouldn't stay in place as we bounced along no matter how hard we tried to brace against the bumps. Added to this the soft-top was no protection from the dust, and it was being sucked in through the rear flap, even when closed, and coating everything!
About halfway along the dirt we stopped for a break, at a small place called Inhaminga, and we must have been quite a sight as we climbed out completely covered in dust! We had a bit to eat and then pressed on, though it was decided that at Chupanga, where we met the Zambezi, we would complete the final 50 kms of the journey by railcar since we were all suffering the effects of sleep deprivation, dust inhalation and sore backs from the bouncing!

Railcar - a large flatbed was attacked to carry the Land Cruiser

At Chupanga we had a short delay while waiting for the railcar - they are operated by the sugar company my Dad worked for - and went for a wander round. We discovered the grave of Mary Moffat, wife of explorer David Livingstone, who had come out to join him but died from Malaria.

Gravestone of Mary Moffat, wife of David Livingstone, at Chupanga

The railcar arrived and we loaded up the Land Cruiser and set off again. It was only around 50 kms to Marromeu, on the South bank of the Zambezi, where we would make to crossing, and I was lucky enough to get the front seat alongside the driver so had beautiful fresh air in my face, and a great view of the journey. I looked back at one stage to say something to the others and was alarmed to see the Land Cruiser swaying vigorously from side to side on the flat-bed, but the driver assured me this was normal and no cause for concern! At Marromeu we had to take another form of transport to cross the river - paddle steamer!
The sugar estate used low-draught paddle steamers, with barges attached either side, to transport the sugar from Luabo, our home and the Northern plantations of the sugar estate, to Marromeu and the rail-head that then took them to Beira for distribution - and these paddle steamers were, in fact, the most common form of freight transport too. There was space between the holds for a vehicle, and it was here that the Land Cruiser was loaded - though driving aboard on flimsy-looking planks was always nerve wracking!

One of the paddle steamers belonging to the sugar estate - the Land Cruiser was loaded onto one of the barges.

The trip down and across river, with the current, takes under an hour, and soon we were in Luabo and heading home, after a trip that took the best part of two days, but was also an incredible adventure!

Leaking flush valve

Almost since I moved into my house I have had a slight leak from the flush valve on my toilet in my en-suite bathroom. It is not your normal loo with a cistern attached, but rather the sort you would normally expect to find in a public building, with a "button" on the wall connected to the water supply (in my case a 1500 litre roof-mounter water tank). You press the button and a measured amount (you can adjust it easily) of water flushes your toilet - the main advantage being that there is no wait for the cistern to fill, but you can keep flushing - ideal in, say, an airport toilet, or even an office toilet where there are multiple staff members using the toilet regularly.
The leak initially collected behind the button cover plate, and seeped into the wall, but I removed the plate and placed it in a drawer in my bedroom, and then the leak simply dripped down in front of the wall tiles, doing no damage.
As it is non-standard I have struggled to find a repair kit for this. The first I bought was a different brand, and the wrong size, but eventually I found the correct one, though it needed a specialised tool to remove the front plate - a 24mm box spanner. I could find a 25mm, but not the 24, so the leak remained for months, with an empty ice-cream container catching the dripping water. It was not major so I didn't worry too much about it, but whenever I went to the city I would try some hardware stores to see if they had the correct spanner, and even looked there during my trips to Peru.
I finally managed to get one in the UK, where I had not been for over 2 years, and took that to Peru before returning to my house in Brazil.

Repair kit

As can be seen the instructions for the repair kit (which, in the photo is sitting on top of a sheet of A4 paper) are minuscule, and consisted mainly of an exploded view of the system, while the kit comes ready assembled! It looked as though I had to turn the water from the 1500 litre tank off first, and since this was outside and only accessible using a ladder, I had put this off for a long time! However the leak appeared to be getting worse, and I decided I needed to get myself organised and effect the repair.

Since there are so many "how-to" videos on YouTube I decided to start there, so entered the details into their search box and up came a long list of solutions. The first one looked promising, but it was filmed using a mobile phone, which he set up on the sink about 2 metres from the valve location - and you could see nothing of what he was doing! He kept bringing pieces close to the phone, but they went out of focus, or he held them in such a way the camera didn't pick them up ... and this was the "top pick" most viewed solution!

The next two were no better - both were done by "plumbers" but they were working on a complete brand-new valve, on a worktop not installed in a working location, so basically were pretty useless. It is one thing to work on a "dry" valve, and another to work on something hooked up to the water supply - but both also claimed you had to turn the water supply off first!

I was about to give up watching and get straight to work when I noticed a clip by the manufacturer!!! Why it is not the number 1 clip I have no idea, but it was professionally done, covered several different scenarios, including if there was still a leak after you installed the kit and possible causes, and, best of all, showed that you didn't have to turn the water supply off first, but simply had to screw the valve in tight first which cut the water off!

So armed with this knowledge this morning I easily completed the work - well, removing the 24mm bolt took some effort as it was incredibly tight, and also when I removed the nipple and washer (top left in my photo) I found evidence of an earlier attempt at a repair, which appeared to consist of packed the area beneath the nipple with something like Blu-tack! Removing the complete old assembly (replacement one shown bottom right of the photo) was also not that easy, and took several attempts using levers and spanners to ease it out without damaging the old one. Put everything together, adjusted the water volume and ... no leak.

Final part of the job was to replace the cover plate and button, which were in my top drawer ... or not! They were in the second drawer, or rather the plate and screws, but not the button were! I searched high and low, including other parts of the house where the button had no reason to be - and then realisation dawned on me ... these had been moved by my rogue house-sitter in 2017, who had gone through all my stuff, and chances are that he had no idea what the plastic button was and may even have disposed of it, but whatever the reason I now have to try and get a new button to complete the repair. At least it doesn't leak any more!

Workmanship

I am not sure when I first became interested in DIY (do it yourself), though I do recall that my father was an avid gardener, and also used to do some basic tasks around the house. My early years were spent either sharing a house with my grandparents, or in rented accommodation, so my family didn't own a house until 1963, when I was 10, and as it was a new build it didn't need much doing to it, though my dad did build me a wardrobe in my bedroom, on the plinth that jutted into my bedroom to give headroom for the stairs!
I am not sure of the exact dates but I know at some stage he bought the Reader's Digest Do-it-yourself manual, which as well as hints and tips for DIY-ers, also had a section on simple projects for the home. I was an avid reader so used to dip into this from time to time, and enjoyed the step-by-step instructions the massive book contained. Years later I bought one for myself, amongst other DIY books, and it became my "bible" for any work I wanted to do. Back then we did not have the luxury of the internet, and endless "how-to" (and "how-not-to"!!) videos on YouTube, nor numerous sites that gave instructions how to do basic tasks around the home, so we had to rely on books if we wanted to do the work ourselves.
Back then, too, specialist tools were not available to the home handyman, or the price was so prohibitive that it was not worth buying something that might only be used for one job. Now the market is flooded with cheap imports (dare I say, mainly from China) and I, along with many others, had a pretty well equipped toolbox, not the best quality, and probably not good enough if you were a serious tradesman, but adequate for occasional basic projects. There are now, at least in the UK, a myriad of Hire Shops, where you can rent specialist equipment for those occasions when your own tools are inadequate. For example, I have in the past hired a floor sander to smooth off old parquet flooring.
But I am getting ahead of myself. By 1976 (when I was 23) I still hadn't really done any DIY, but during a study break from work, when I stayed with some friends near Pietermaritzburg, in South Africa, I helped out with the construction of a concrete shower enclosure in their bathroom. I worked on some of the pipework, and a little of the concreting, and seemed to do OK at it.
Upon my return to the UK in 1978 I joined the family grocery business, and in 1979 we decided to open a bakery in the adjoining property (which we owned but had previously rented to a hairdresser). To convert the shop we needed quite a bit of work to be done, so called in a local builder, who we knew, for a quotation. We needed two sinks installing, a water heater, suitable flooring laying (over floorboards), a 3 metre long work bench with shelving beneath, walls painting, and shelving built in a store-room. He came in took a load of measurements and the following day called back with his quotation - £10,000!! This was more than double the price we were expecting, and in 1979 was very expensive for a fairly simple job for a qualified builder. We got the impression he didn't really want such a small (for him) job, as he was in much demand for house building, so was "trying it on". We rejected his quote and turned to the newspaper adverts, where we came across a man offering his services for "renovations and small building projects", so gave him a call (remember no internet back in those days!). He again took some measurements, and made some notes, but before leaving told us "this job is really too big for me"!
At this stage I decided I would try and do most of the work myself. We needed to have three-phase power installed by the Electricity Board, and they offered to install the water heater (over the sink) at the same time, for little more than the cost of the heater - we just had to chisel out an entry hole for the 3-phase cabling under the exterior wall (which was not as easy as it sounds as the house was over 100 years old and there was a lot of very hard flint to chisel through) and the rest of the installation was free!
(Full details about the bakery are in a separate post Opening a bakery)
We got a company to lay industrial grade flooring over the floorboards, which again was fairly cheap, and I started sourcing the other materials we would need. I bought a pair of stainless steel single drainer sinks (left and right) from a local DIY store, which were on clearance and cost £25 for the pair! I drew up plans for the workbench and calculated how much timber I needed and went to a local timber merchant. When he saw the quantities he asked what it was for, and then offered me 35% trade discount! He also gave me a lot of advice about how to go about doing the job, and suggested some alternatives to those I was planning to use, in all saving me a lot of money.
We painted the walls ourselves, using gloss on the walls in the main bakery area and emulsion on the ceiling, and in the "display" area, and this was a big mistake! The levels of condensation produced by the heat and steam in the bakery soon produced mould spores, and no amount of cleaning would prevent this. Through a trade publication we contacted a specialist paint company, and bought two different types of very expensive specialist paint, but after applying these we never had the problems again!
I also plumbed in the two sinks, having first built a bench to hold them, with shelves underneath, and there were no leaks!
My dad already owned an electric drill, screwdrivers and chisels, and we did buy a mitre joint set, though this was used with hand saws to create all the joints, and by the end of the work I had blisters from screwing the hundreds of countersunk screws manually (realised as I neared the end that we could have bought a cordless screwdriver!)!
The finished product looked amazing, if I say so myself, and soon we were ready to start baking. Aside from my labour cost - I did most of it myself as my dad was working in the grocery shop next door - the total cost of all the materials, the water heater, flooring, paint, etc. came to under £2500, and took under a month to complete. The work had been challenging, though early on I realised that nothing had really been beyond my abilities, and this new-found confidence led me to attempt other projects in the future. Previously I hadn't considered myself to be very adept at manual tasks like this, but as the work progressed I soon came to the realisation that often you restrict yourself in what you do, or even attempt, by not even trying to challenge your abilities!
With my new-found confidence over the years I attempted even more challenging projects, the most satisfying one being installing an en-suite bathroom! We lived in a Dormer Bungalow (a bungalow that has had a second storey added in the eaves) and the bathroom was downstairs with three bedrooms upstairs (and a fourth downstairs which we converted into a workroom for my wife who ran a cake making business from home). 
The master bedroom was large enough to accommodate a good-sized bathroom, but we didn't have the money for the conversion, though over several years we bought bits and pieces for it when we found them on offer, so matching sink and toilet, shower enclosure, and even tiles were bought and stored away. Finally we decided we had saved enough to make a start, but the big concern was how to get rid of the waste. Our bedroom had a sink in it already in the corner, which had a drain pipe, but this was only around 5cm, so unsuitable for a toilet. We were unsure how to proceed so realised that here we needed expert advice so called in a plumber, with the intention that he would do the plumbing work for us. He wanted to cut channels in the joists to run the waste pipes, and was talking of having to install reinforcements (as the joists were load bearing!) and his quote, just for the plumbing work was more than our total budget! We declined the offer!
Just through the wall from where the en-suite was to be there was a small loft space (housing our central heating header tank also), though it had very restricted headroom, meaning it was more a crawl space, and this was where the electrics were going to come from, as well as where the new water pipes were going to be run. On the outside wall of the house adjacent to this was the vent pipe from the domestic sewer, and this was a 20mm pipe, and during my research I had read that is was perfectly acceptable to join a toilet waste into this, so a new plan started forming - connect the shower and sink to the old sink waste, but the toilet waste would run through the crawl space and into the vent pipe - the biggest worry being whether there would be sufficient "fall" for the waste to run away. The measurements indicated it was just about adequate - without making any further structural alterations - so we went for it!
I am a planner - which means that before undertaking any project I make lots of drawings, take copious measurements, and try to consider all eventualities, and then get all the materials in before I start, so I don't find myself in the embarrassing situation of, say, having cut the electric off and not have the necessary materials to reconnect, and it being Sunday with the shops closed! My wife found that a bit frustrating, as she wanted to jump in and get started, but over the years realised that my way was ultimately quicker and more efficient, as once started we could just crack on until the job was finished! She was also a keen DIY-er so we did much of the work together - she was a dab hand at tiling - and in the end completed it all ourselves, including plumbing and electrical work (nowadays you have to be a certified electrician to do electrics, but since my handiwork is still going strong around 25 years later it bears testament to the workmanship!), and came in well within budget, and only one or two minor problems along the way. One of these was a leaking joint, which took many attempts to resolve, and the second - well, I had a rush of blood to the head while installing the electrics! We were installing three wall lights, as well as an electric shower which got its own wiring and a new circuit breaker, and the idea was that two lights would be linked and the third - over the sink - independent. I planned all the wiring and started running it to the fittings and the switches - to the fittings through the stud wall behind, and to the switches hidden under the coving we were going to attack between wall and ceiling. So I ran the wires to all the locations they were needed, and then we fixed the coving - leaving the electrics to be completed later. When I came to connect the wiring to the switches I had my "moment" - despite all my careful planning beforehand I suddenly though that I could bypass one of the wires I had laid, so removed it and connected the rest up - and flicked the switch! The lights came on - the single one worked fine, but the two linked ones? They came on nice and bright, but when you went to switch them off they just went dim! I realised immediately that I did, after all, need the second wire, which I had pulled out from under the coving, as per my original drawing! Fortunately I managed to replace the wire with the only "damage" being a small square cut into the outside (bedroom-side) stud wall to feed the wire back through, and this was then taped back in place, and wallpapered over (we had not yet done that final piece of the project), and you would never have known there had been a problem!
Now that I am getting older, so am not as physically able as I once was I tend to employ local "craftsmen" to do jobs for me - like exterior house painting, floor tiling, etc. but here in rural Brazil it is very frustrating since most "tradesmen" have no formal training or experience, and the quality of their workmanship leaves a lot to be desired. Paint splashes everywhere - on the floor tiles, across light switches - and even roller strokes on the ceiling where they have over-run, and no attempt to clean up. Irregular gaps between tiles, poorly applied grout, and I have twice had to show "experts" how to measure and cut edge tiles. In many cases, too, I have had to supply the tools as well as the materials - here a "quotation" is just for the labour, you are given a list of what materials are needed, and usually end up with plenty of spares for the next project! In almost all cases I have more experience, and certainly more skill at the work I am paying for, and spend a lot of time "showing " them the right way to do it, but no longer the physical capability, and outdoors no tolerance to the heat and sun.
I am currently waiting for my "man" to finish repainting my two wrought-iron (not as fancy as that sounds!) gates - I supplied him with a wire brush, sandpaper (for metal), paintbrushes, thinners, primer and enamel paint. It took him 3 days - working around 2 hours a day - to prepare and prime the gates, then I didn't see him for 4 days. He then appeared asking if I had any more work for him - so I pointed out the gates needed painting as he had only primed them (he didn't seem to realise that "primer" was an undercoat!), so he spent 2 more hours painting one of the gates - and then disappeared again! It is now 8 days later and he still hasn't returned to top-coat the other gate! Here you have to take what you can get - or suck it up and do it all yourself!