THERE I was, doing the grand tour of the horses’ paddock complete with barrow and poo shovel on my way towards the muck pile when Murphy, Ruth’s favourite horse, came galloping up in search of solace.

This is unusual, unless I am bringing him one of his thrice daily feeds. At best, he’s totally neutral to my presence. He may check the barrow out for new hay, but finding it contains other stuff he loses interest.

Not this time. He was really pally, sticking his big hairy muzzle in my face. Picture Desperate Dan with big teeth and you get the picture! Looking around, then lifting my cap and cocking my ear, I located the source of Fat-boy Murphy’s concern.

He had picked up on the increasingly loud and horrendous squealing and screaming emanating from the direction of Joseph’s property. It was obviously pig killing time.

Fat-boy doesn’t like pigs. If he comes across one on his journeying around the campo, Ruth says she has all on to stop him high-tailing it in the opposite direction with considerable threat to life and limb.

We knew he was wary of the living pigs, but obviously the (noisy) demise of one was equally problematic to him. If I were him, one less would be one less problem.

As the squealing eventually ‘died’, Fat-boy calmed himself and returned to his favourite hobby – eating – and I finished the mucking out. After getting washed and changed I moseyed on up to the Monte for a look-see, household waste bag in hand, as excuse, for disposal in the communal bin up there and digi-camera secreted about my person because I sensed a picture opportunity!

As I rounded the corner it was clearly a barbecue party.

There were our neighbours, Manuel and Lucilla, and Joseph with Fernando and his wife who have refurbished a small cottage at the end of the Monte as a weekend retreat as Fernando lives and works in The Algarve.

In addition, maybe 25 to 30 guests were milling around clutching a variety of drinks, beer being the most prominent.

There was a bowl of pig’s innards bubbling away in one corner of the huge barbie, these being a delicacy. The once noisy pig was cleaned, gutted and spread on the main table ready for jointing and cooking (as the picture shows).

Apparently this was a small Christmas and New Year celebration as Fernando had erected a new pergola. The pig was the main course. None of your supermarket-prepared barbie meat here. Indeed, most of the farms and small holdings keep animals for food such as goats, chickens, sheep and the Alentejo black pig.

They get fattened for about six months and then contribute to the feast.

The drawback is that the animals are not normally vetted or wormed. So, pork being somewhat of a dodgy meat unless properly and thoroughly cooked, you can get more than you bargained for!

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