Rabit piligrimin is waiting to see whether he can have the house. It’s got everything I am looking for. Went to have a look again this evening. Quietly inspecting the part of the old farmhouse that has not been converted yet, I looked at the old manger.
People stopped farming here only one generation ago. The fields and terraces, the trees and irrigation channels, the caminos servicing the abandoned properties, all speak of a life once populated by people and donkeys. The farmhouse has been divided into three. Two units have been modernised and the third still awaits development. No doubt the manger would be thrown on a skip during the first day’s work… But no. I will ask if I can have it. The donkey plan begins to take shape.
I just await the landlord’s decision. Someone else has seen the house and is interested. They prolly has more money than a poor rabit. (In fact rabit doesn’t have anything till the end of the month and pay day!) Mustn’t raise my hopes too much.
Thinks: If the baby Jesus was put in a manger like this, He would not look quite so good in the Christmas crib, would he? He would look like he was in jail or something. The three wise men would have to be very wise to figure out a way of gathering round for a suitable arrangement in Renaissance paintings, and the ox and the ass would have difficulty getting a look in. Not only that, but Our Lady would have done her back in, reaching down to pick him up. Makes you think, dunnit?