Englezeh (sic)

10 am, Easter Saturday, in my pajamas eating chocolate in bed with the old man who is in underpants and passed out on the pillow next to me. Being the more 'aptly' dressed of the two of us, I decide to answer the incessant tapping and ringing of the door- lest it should be our gardener who seems to have forgotten the word, "NO" from his spotty English vocabulary.

I peel back the curtain; a mass of lion's mane curls, melted eyemakeup and a face so thunderous, it could have melted the icebergs the tiny polar bears decorating my pajamas are perched on.

It is not Rojelio...

A small, strange man is on my doorstep. he's holding a zippered leatherbound tome- it's either a bible or a weird briefcase but he's accompanied by an equally well meaning looking young lady. Baptists... I shudder... why is it they pester me at my house and yet I always feel crappy sending them on their merry way? This is how they get you...

I answer the door. It's Easter and they look religious, the guilty CofE in me can't send them away...

My unbrushed teeth form a cursory smile while the man exposes his equally hideous row of gold capped gnashers and immediately unleashes a breakneck string of Portuguese on my cotton wool brain.

I know it's Portuguese because I went there a couple of times and I know enough to order beer, buy tampons and ask for medical help. All the handy stuff- this man asked for none of these things so we'll call it ESP...

Anyway, I cut him off, "Englezeh" I announce in my terrible accent. He smiles and apologizes, asks for someone in the house that speaks Portuguese. There is no one... He asks for someone that might be Brazilian. The penny drops... MOISES! I explain I know no person or persons who are either Portuguese or Brazilian. The man looks confused with a hint of 'I'm Not Buying This'. He apologizes and goes on his way.

Bemused, I settle back in to my 500 thread count pit and simmer. The old man doesn't think it's odd and resumes counting the lights on the inside of his eyelids. Yet I am left with this unsettling sense of dread. The sooner we get out of dodge the better...