Rubí Donkey writs her Rubí Tuesday blogue…
…On a Wedensday, becuse our Peasant has been hoggin the bloggin due to his self-portant ‘Walkin Out of the World’ virtule pigrimnage.
Well, if the Peasant wants to walk out of any worlds, he should at least see if there will be any customs charges for sendin parcels to him, as we’ve recently found out with Christmas puddins wot get sended from Wales to El Parral in Alicante and end up costin 36.50 euros in customs charges when there wasn’t even any cream to go with the puddin !
But I really don’t think the Peasant should be callin Doris Johnson all those rood words, if he calls himself a proper Christian hermit.
Anyways, I haven’t got time to writ much today, since the Peasant wants the Internet back to do more writtins and annoyin people in the USA with culture wars and stuff, and rallyin the troops to support Pope Francis, and that kind of pointless waste of a sunny afternoon.
But I wanted to share these pichers of the valley that we got from Compass West becuse they is quit amazin. The one above shows where we are in El Parral, but also you can see all the coast down to Alicante so it gives you an idea where we are.
“The context,” said Morris.
I just kicked Morris. I wish he wouldn’t use stupid words. Anyway, as I was sayin, it shows you where we are. Here is another picher from Compass West, showin where El Parral is, with bigly mountins around us.
“The wider context,” said Morris. “The Peasant likes to look at all these rocks and say, ‘Once these caves were filled with Neolithic people, who were the very first farmers in Alicante.’ And he goes all misty.”
I kicked Morris again.
“Well the Neolithic farmers didn’t teach our Peasant very much, did they? Misty or not, he still hasn’t managed to grow any bloody carrots here in El Parral! Waste of money on carrot seeds, if you ask me.”
5 thoughts on “A Kick in the Castellets”
You is a muy practical donk, Rubí, who nose that Carrots do nots grow up on tops of the misty eyed mountains, and you mist certainly will nots bee climbings up no Jack’s beans stalks to find out on the off trances! You ears far too sensible for that sort of things… leave thats to the unstable peoples, who somehows manage to remains stabled enough to takes some muy bueno pictures of your stables, and you stay safe down theres in your low, but not gloomies places.
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(Morris says that these days, when you respond to someone, you begin by saying “Sooo… ” becuse it gives you thinkin time. Particlarly if you is a government idiot on the Radio. “Soooooo… why did we let 100,000 people die? That’s a great question… Soooooooooooooo….”)
Soooo…. Your Peasant Father is very busy bein portant on the Internet just now. But a family came up from Benidorm and as they wanted to give us carrots and all were wearin face masks, the Peasant said that was all right. And he said, “That’s great you have carrots becuse I’m in the dog-house as I didn’t go shoppin for carrots, due to the supermarket bein full of infestation an such…”
And we had a whole bag of carrots.
Soooo… As they were leavin, and gettin back in their car, the girl, who was prolly Year 6 in primary if you was a teacher, and not a donkey, said, “Mummy…?”
“Why do that man’s donkeys make him sleep in the dog’s house?”
That’s another poor child the Peasant has confused. Is there no end of it?
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Oh dear Rubí… at least there is no end to your carrots, and it seems to have turned out alright, despite the Peasant’s humours… and he was a very good Peasant for letting you be fussed over by the bringers of carrots!
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I’m getting a bit confused here. For a start it’s Thursday here in France and I’ve lost track of where Robert Sutton has got to, what with watching a german nun talking in French and trying to find El Parral in the photos. Rubi makes sense, though. You did tell her about wild carrot and selective breeding to get the modern ones, though, i hope, before she tries to find neolithic ones? Here is the contribution from Moppett Cluck.
Snap. It’s also Thursday here in Spain, but earlier on Thursday in the USA where they have just received my 2000 word article in time for the deadline, which is why I have not been doing much with the piligriminage today. There is nothing like a tightly structured article with academic footnotes, responding to detailed instructions from a proper editorial team, to concentrate the mind. I prefer writing a 1500 word comedy short-story, to be honest!
The virtual pilgrimage is the Way of Saint James version of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (obviously without a motorcycle or a donkey or indeed very much Zen) but we can think of it as a sort of coffee morning in the Zeitgeist while drying out the tent after another downpour, if you get my meaning?
I’m sure you can cope with another episode better than I can? 🙂
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