Postcard From the Algarve - June 05

He learned to play when he was 15 years old, cycling over unmade roads, the equivalent distance of Aberfeldy to Pitlochry, to take lessons. Sr. Martins, even at that age, was a shrewd man.

This was before the age of television, and the main amusement for country people was the baile, or the village hop. In winter, these were held in any house with a room or barn big enough to accommodate 30 or 40 dancers. In summer they used the outdoor threshing floors.

The band was never more than a mouth organ and a triangle, but if an accordionist could be found, so much the better, and there was always a whip-round for the accordionist. Many of the dances at which Sr. Martins first played were in barns in which he was hoisted to a platform above the dancers. The mothers sat around the walls, waiting to take their daughters home when the dancing finished.

Sr. Martins went on to become much in demand around the eastern Algarve. When television was introduced he appeared frequently, became part of Portugal’s most popular accordion band, Os Marfados. And he left them, in the tradition of all folk heroes, when they became electric. He still loves his accordion; one of his daughters also plays, but has less time for it now she is a lawyer.

“‘The accordion is my life,” he says. “It is the meaning of life. I could not live without it, but the young? They learn and play until they get a job, and then give it up. Why does it not mean so much to them?”

I’ll bet there’s someone in Highland Perthshire saying exactly the same thing.