Pandora’s Box

A Rubí donkey Saturday Special.

Being fed up with it all, I really didn’t want to write a blog today, even though I’d written the title already: “Pandora’s Box.” So I thought I’d suggest it to Rubí donkey.  Readers will be accustomed to the occasional “Rubí Tuesday” blog, but today is the first time she has written a Saturday blog.  This was only made possible because I craftily whispered a suggestion to her as she was eating her breakfast of straw and alfalfa.
“What a lovely quiet, perfectly still morning, Rubí. What are you going to write your blog about today?”  And from there on, Rubí assumed it was Tuesday.  “Pandora’s Box ia a good title,” I added.  “I’ve written it already. Ask Morris to look it up…”  Rubí continued chewing, her teeth crunching on straw with the regular rhythm of an old steam engine slowly climbing a steep incline in a slate quarry with the occasional clunk as a loosely riveted rail is pushed down on a wooden sleeper.  She looked interested in the idea.  (The blog post, that is, not the immensely complicated metaphor.)
The Rubí donk is very obligingly suggestible, so she started to write a Tuesday blog on a Saturday.  As regular readers know, Rubí donkey writes but she doesn’t know how to read.  On the other hand, Morris reads but we have never seen any evidence that he can write.

 

 

It is a lovely quiet Tuesday morning and the air is quite still. I’ve had a good breakfast of straw and alfalfa and I’ll take for my subject today the Panda’s Box.  Our Peasant suggested the title to me and I think it a good one.

I should explain about the Peasant.  When our keeper used to have his previous blog, he called it Brother Lapin’s Pilgrimage, so we used to call him the Rabit Person and carried on doing that after he started this Equusasinus blog for us.  However, Morris has been reading a book that our keeper left on the field one day when he went to school.  It is called The Second Republic and the Civil War in Benidorm (1936-1939). I should explain for people who have never heard of a war in Benidorm, that it would have been in Roman times: a period that much interests me, as readers will know.

From the book, Morris tells me that a person who kept donkeys was called a Peasant.  I always thought that a peasant was something like a grouse or a partridge, but Morris explained it is a man in a straw hat. It all seemed to fall into place.

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Me and the Peasant
I told Morris: “The Peasant told me the title of my blog today must be called the Panda’s Box. Was there anything about that in the book about the Roman civil war in Benidorm?”

Morris said there was nothing about it but “Any six-year-old can get stuff off the internet these days” and he came back with the explanation.  “It’s not panda but Pandora. She was the girlfriend of Adrian Mole in a comedy book cult. Adrian Mole was once aged fourteen and three-quarters; but he was fifty this year.”

So it must have been that Pandora’s box, but I wasn’t getting much further with the blog.  I don’t think the Peasant is very good at titles.  He is quite good at flying flags, however, and that is prolly what peasants do best.

 

 

I like the pretty flag and Morris likes the pretty flag, although he is a bit miffed that it has been put up too high, so he can’t chew it off the flagpole.  The Peasant told us he put up the flag in solidarity with the rest of Spain.  One problem with this is that is wasn’t very solidarible with donkeys, as he bought it in a Chinese supermarket and he said he was boycotting everything from China due to the donkey skin trade, as brought to our attention by the Donkey Sanctuary.  The Peasant said it was a difficult decision but the only place you can possibly buy a Spanish flag is in a Chinese shop, which is prolly right but still a questionable decision.

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As I stood at the water fountain and Morris was looking to see if the Peasant was bringing any apples, I said “Tell me about the book of the Roman Civil War in Benidorm, Morris.”

Morris frowned.  “Don’t be a silly Rubí-mother: it was the Spanish Civil War in Benidorm.”

“Oh, they had one of those as well?”

“The amazing thing about it was this,” began Morris.  “In Benidorm everyone knew each other very well.  It was a town which already had a lot of holiday visitors – called veraneantes – people who came for summer, when the civil war started in July 1936.  So there was a lot of contact with people from outside, and everyone was more outward-looking.”

“Can you get to the point Morris,” I said.  “I don’t like long and compliflated explanderies.”

“The people from both sides of the civil war in Benidorm looked after each other and – when the dangerous times came – hid each other away from the gunmen.  Wasn’t that kind?”

“I think the Peasant prolly plans writing something about this on the blog,” I suggested.  “Look, it’s his half-term holiday and he’s sitting in the sun with a glass of wine reading the book.”

“Did you know half the Catalan parlament walked out, led by opposition leader Inés Arrimadas, leaving half the chamber empty when the separatists voted to declare independence yesterday?” said Morris.  “This was actually reported by the BBC as… some representatives did not vote.”

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“I haven’t got a clue what you are talking about, Morris,” I said.  “Why did Adrian Mole’s girlfriend Pandora have a box anyway?”

“No idea,” said Morris.  “I think the Peasant is bringing some apples.”

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11 thoughts on “Pandora’s Box

  1. hmmmm, Rubí, what are all those strange-looking asses doing under that dangerous-looking contraption above their heads ?

    Is it some sort of Animal Farm where the swine are telling them that silly donkey men in their straw hats and with their silly flags are all bad because they’re feeding you ?

    I wish I knew.

    hmmmmm, maybe if you ate the book, you could find out ? Worth a try anyway !!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Son cosas ya pasadas:
    historias de otros tiempos y otros hombres:
    de los hombres que lucharon en Troya
    o que sintieron miedo en las trincheras
    unos minutos antes del combate en el Ebro…
    Yo no sé de esas cosas:
    yo soy un hombre que ha nacido más tarde,
    alejado en el tiempo de Brunete y Guernika;
    alejado del odio por amor a la tierra…
    amigo de la tierra y enemigo del odio.

    These are past things:
    stories from other times and other men:
    of the men who fought in Troy
    or who were afraid in the trenches
    a few minutes before the battle in the Ebro …
    I do not know of those things:
    I am a man who was born later,
    removed from the time of Brunete and Guernica;
    removed from hatred for love of the earth …
    friend of the earth and enemy of hate.

    Carlos Álvarez

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  3. My pet rabbit once attempted to eat my encyclopedia of art, which the peasant person bought me many years ago. A rabbit of great intelligence and discernment.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. As you can see Rubi, the peasant person is not only very good at keeping donkeys, (which not all peasants are,) and flying flags, but he is also very good at eating books and washing them down with a glass of wine. He may not be so good when it comes to titles, but he can pick the perfect quote from books on occasions…

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Hearts with one purpose alone
    Through summer and winter seem
    Enchanted to a stone
    To trouble the living stream.
    The horse that comes from the road,
    The rider, the birds that range
    From cloud to tumbling cloud,
    Minute by minute they change;
    A shadow of cloud on the stream
    Changes minute by minute;
    A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
    And a horse plashes within it;
    The long-legged moor-hens dive,
    And hens to moor-cocks call;
    Minute by minute they live:
    The stone’s in the midst of all.

    Yeats — Easter, 1916

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Dear Gareth,
    Was our Act of Abjuration (1581) recently discussed in Catalonia? The USA used it for their Declaration of Independence in 1776. It gives a good reason for fighting the God given right to the king for telling his people what to do. We showed our original to president Obama when he was in The Hague 3 years ago.
    PS: Did you ever count the number of times your donks chew on a mouthful of straw and did you compare that with how cows do it? Most interesting!
    Best and greetings,
    Geert

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Hello Geert!

    Such a long time since you commented on the blog! I don’t normally comment under a Rubí blog (Separation of Powers, you know… ) but welcome back, pilgrim ! I hope you rebuilt your beach chalet after the fire?

    Fascinating about the Act of Abjuration. I didn’t know that. And as for comparing donkey chewing with cows, no I have not studied this. But let me guess: a cow would chew more slowly and extract all the moisture from the cud, while a donkey gets it down quickly and doesn’t extract all the goodness from the feed. Wasteful… ?

    Keep commenting on the blog!
    Gareth

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  8. Rubí, Morris and Matilde had their apple. Aitana decided it was a non-apple day and refused it. I decided that Aitana needed the vitamins so I easn’t taking no for an answer and grabbed her. Aitana declared unilateral non-apple-dependence and fled down the slope to level 2 – with a warning kick in my firection as she went.

    Internal suspension and compulsory homework clinic for Aitana.

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