Ten years not in Parcent & Matilde invades Seville

Rubí 2010 in Parcent

– Rubí Donkey writes her Rubí Tuesday blogue

It was exactly ten years ago in December 2010 that I was in Parcent in the stables where I was born, when the Peasant came with his daughter Alys. He said I would make a good donkey companion for his “proper Camino donkey”, so he paid for me and said he would come back again later.

After the Peasant had gone, I asked the other donkeys where we lived, “What’s a proper Camino donkey?”

Matilde said, “I’m a proper Camino donkey. A big sturdy Andalusian donkey that will carry a pack and walk the Camino de Santiago. We’re the best!”

“Why didn’t you tell the Peasant you are a proper Camino donkey?” I asked.

Matilde 2010 in Parcent

Matilde said, “He didn’t ask me.”

Two weeks later the Peasant came back again with Barbara from France.

“There,” said Barbara, pointing to Matilde, “that’s a proper Camino donkey.”

Matilde looking pleased with herself and said, “Told you. Proper Camino donkey.”

And so that is how I came to be ten years not in Parcent and the friend of Matilde the proper Camino donkey.

As you can see, becuse the Peasant is writtin his virtule pigrimnage, it all started when he borrowed a proper Camino donkey from Barbara and went up the Chimney Saint Jacques in France. That’s a place somewhere beyond Valencia and the Perynees where they has the green grassy fields and it rains every day on the pigrimns, as the Peasant explainied on his blogue. I really don’t know why you can’t have green grassy fields without it rainin every day on the pigrimns. Another of life’s mysterys.

Walkin Out of the World“: a reveiw by Rubí Donkey

So it’s now the second part of my Rubí Tuesday blogue, wot is a reveiw of the Peasant’s unterminable story of how he is Walkin Out of the World. Not walkin out fast enough for most readers, who wants him to get on and walk out a bit quicker, so they can reads somethin else. The best part for me is the pictures of the green grassy fields. I don’t much care for the Romneyesque art pictures.

Aprat from lookin at the pictures, I haven’t acherly read any of the Peasant’s witterins. I never does any readin anyway. Morris donkey does the readin and I just do the writtin. Even if I did the readin I wouldn’t read what the Peasant writs becuse it’s mostly stuff nobody wants to read about. Aitana donkey only reads her Vague magazine. She says the Peasant’s witterins don’t have anythin about French fashion. Silly horse!

Matilde, the proper Camino donkey, has been readin Walkin Out of the World, and it is a relevation for her. “So that’s what a proper Camino donkey does!” she said. “If I had been with the Peasant walking through France on a pigrimnage I would have got wet every day and have to stand bored in the rain outside churches while he does all his praying and Masses and everything. That’s no holiday for a donk!”

“Never mind,” I said. “Just be philosopical and don’t think about it. We were both pregnant when the Peasant bought us in Parcent, so the most exhaustin thing we ever did was flop down watchin the foals skippin about like young rabits. Now our energies mostly go on fightin grown-up Morris donkey for our share of the food.”

“The Peasant doesn’t seem to realise he didn’t much need a proper Camino donkey,” said Matilde. “Now he’s become a hermit, the nearest I get to Compostela is a camino jaunt to the bakers shop in Orxeta.”

“True, Matilde,” I said. “So you still dream of bein a proper Camino donkey walkin to Compostela?”

“I’ll tell you what I dream of,” she said, the whites of her eyes showin her Mad-Matilde look again. “Being a big war horse! Like in the paintings. With long silver Toledo armour round my ears. Rearing up waving my front hooves over the slaughtered enemy, with Santiago Matamoros on my back swinging his big steel sword! And I race alongside El Cid’s horse Babieca to drive all the heathen south. And invade Seville!”

“Invade Seville?” I looked at Matilde in astonishment. “I thought you were a placid peaceable sort of donkey! Babieca means ‘stupid’ anyway. What on earth is the point of invading Seville?”

“To eat all the oranges,” she said.

Veterinary advice warning:
A donkey should not be given more than TWO oranges! The high sugar and acid content makes this is a rare treat, not a regular staple. Oranges should also be sliced into small pieces to avoid choking. The above photos were taken in managed conditions with the protesting donkey dragged away after eating two oranges. (Remember: always wear knee pads when handling a donkey that wants to kick you.)

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