Look downhill from my balcony and you’ll see the U-bend of the River Alva flowing past our house before it curls back around the village. The water froths and tumbles over the rocks beneath the tiny weir, providing a constant soundtrack to life in Moura Morta. I hardly notice it these days but on hot summer nights, when the bedroom window is open, its constant dull roar is quite soothing.

The chameleon qualities of the Alva fascinate me. Its water is usually clear, and appears dark from above, but when the sun’s at the right level, it’s transformed into a patchy silver snake.

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