Rubí Donkey writes her Rubí Tuesday blogue
The Peasant took me for my walk on Good Friday and I learned the names of some more wayside plants.
This one tells me he is called Henry.
The Peasant thinks I am gettin too fat, so he wants to get me out more regularly for walks, but as you can see from my front end, it is not fat at all. In fact, I only see the front end of my shadow and it kooks quite slender, so what’s all the fuss about, eh?
I has not writtied a blogue for a few weeks as we’ve been havin Lent, and now Easter is over I think the Peasant may let me writ more Rubí Tuesday blogues. Today’s blogue is not about Henry, but I just needed a title, so that’s enough about that.
It’s more a general sort of blogue about nothin at all, wot Morris says I am specially good at, and I think that’s a compliment, unlike the Peasant, who says I’m a fat donk.
Happily, the Peasant has been asked by the Managin Editor of Where Peter Is for his first article in the new series “Postcards from the Camino”, so he’s not hoggin the bloggin, and I can writ things on my Rubí Tuesday blogue without havin my pooter snatched away. (The Peasant is lookin quite dizzy just now becuse the driver of the water lorry excitedly tellin him how he read on the Interweb that the Covid-19 pandemoniums was just invented by the multinational drug companies to make more money, and that’s why he’s stopped wearin a mask. The Peasant went and got an extra mask. I wasn’t sure whether he was goin to tell the water lorry man to put it on, or strangle him with it. In the end, I saw that the Peasant put on the second mask himself, so he was doubly protected against an another idiot Covid-denier.
Morris reads me the Peasant’s blogue posts and I have followed his “Walking Out of the World” piggrimage, so I have been wondrin recently when he will finally remember to pray to Saint Médard – the saint for doin the best weather – which the Peasant learned all about in France when he was bein instructed in weather and saints from a fellow piggrim, Valerie.
Then he seems to have forgotten all about Saint Médard becuse we have had awful weather over Easter and obviously if the Peasant knows the propper saint to get the job done, he should have jolly well done prayin about it!
One of the reasons we live in Spain is because the weather is nearly always nice. (Of course, the main reason we live in Spain is we are Spanish donkeys so we had no choice in the matter.) Aitana says it was a large bird hoverin over Saint Médard that kept him dry in the storm, so we’d all be better off prayin to large birds. Silly horse.
Then I see the Peasant also forgot to put up any photos of donkeys on Palm Sunday on his blogue this year, so here are photos of Palm Sunday lunch. The palm tree is called Eric.
Equus Asinus 