time... changing

Well I think our local clock struggled gamely on for a little while clinging to the old time... the sensible time, it can go two ways when the mess with the clocks either almost as if nothing has happened but there is an air of something important in the air for a few days or it all gets a big surreal and mixed up, this year was kind of the first until a neighbour talked to me. She said "The local clock is sticking with Portugese time." or more accurately she said bos dias yadda yadda yadda blah tiempo yoddle yooo yoddle whooo portugese dibble dobble iglesia yodda no no....no yodda portugese faldafalda faldeedidaaado. During some of it I noticed some of her teeth, the others were far away by now not noticable by dent of being put wherever tooth fairies thought best to put them a long time ago. The sun glanced across them and there was a kind of bar code effect maybe different teeth configurations for different family names hmmm 'she has her fathers teeth' or rather doesn't have the same ones he didn't have, anyway what was happneing oh yes I was listenting and trying to understand and while the missing teeth took my attention she had stopped talking..was it pride or distain, perhaps admiration or frustration that now flickered across her face? There was stick waving but not of the aggressive kind, directed alternatingly towards Portugal and the local Church then doing a finale hovering somewhere between and pointing at a cloud that I hoped might by shape or colour help us out with the transference of meaning but now the stick was slowly wilting like Big Blue Running Horse tailing off eagles crying on his flute so not a very important cloud, now pointing at a field, at the verge, at the road, at some gravel and touchdown the pointer is at rest acting as a leaning post again. "Hrrrr Que errrrrr valle errr ai oh mm" I manage to utter with great fluency while examining the road surface, then I tried something new. "Moving I am...fence...for wild pigs" I tried to say. While I wondered if I should have said "Moving I am...for wild pigs...fence" or even "Moving...for wild pigs...I am fence" she looked impresed, or possibly amazed even "oooooohhh jabali si no si falda falda yadda yadda" and we made some other noises that let us leave the rest of the conversation hanging there like a film that broke but left the audience happy anyways. I think the church bells did OK and possibly Portugal weren't so bad either but the correct time strayed a bit for a few days after. I wonder what news she took home to her family about the strange English folks..one day it will all make sense poco a poco they keep telling me manayana o uno o dos anyos no problemio scorchio fal de dah falde dah. Tomorow is the day Ruan and I are going to try and relocate a fence to keep the wild pigywiggys out of our garden and in particular off our hand dug potato patch to which the local Jabali or xabarin are rather partial. Lets hope tonight is not the night the piggies decide to visit us.