Mr Fernando is the caretaker (I guess), of the building my little office is in. Very pleasant fellow, carries my bag in for me, helps me open up etc. Up until yesterday when my office door was fixed by a carpenter, it was quite an effort to open it. A solid bashing with my hip if I was in company, and a even more solid rear ending if I was alone. More effective, much less delicate. Anyway, those days are behind me and the door now swings open effortlessly. Mr Fernando does not speak any English and I, we are well aware, am useless. This does not stop Mr Fernando bonding with me. My interjections of ‘Nao falo Portugues’ literally fall on deaf ears. The man has a lot of shit to get off his chest I suspect. I have decided it is just polite to smile and nod. It did occur to me this morning after our monologue that I am be agreeing to things I am oblivious to. A very satisfied smile was bestowed on me before Mr Fernando wandered off to attend to his duties. I suspect we are either 1) betrothed, 2) he is now in my employment or 3) I have agreed to include him in my will.
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