The day started off passing the municipal bull ring in the dark, with strong winds and rain in the air. The path entered a large agricultural estate, I think based on pigs, who seemed to live contentedly roaming around the woodland.

Once again I struggle to remember 'The Owl and the Pussy cat'....which I half recite anytime I am near pigs. For those with the advanced taste in poetry, the full version is shown at the foot of the page.

Incidentally the pigs from this area are famous for their ham (big in taste, as long as you like the consistency of leather.....compared to the water soaked stuff we have in UK) However the meat from these fit looking free range animals tasted great, just like the pork I remember when I was a small boy, which sadly was more than a few years ago.

The last half of the journey was in the national park.... not totally unlike the first half of the journey, but with the addition of hills and minus the pigs.

On reaching El Real de whatsit I picked up the key to the Alburge from the tourist office, showered & walked into the village to join John Luke & Diana for some grub, with wine that came in tumblers, what a great idea.

In the strange last light of the evening I watched the beginning 5 minuets of the local Easter week 2 hour procession. It was a tad cold, getting dark and the next exciting instalment of my story on the I pod called for my horizontal attention until I fall asleep. (Always a nuisance trying to sort out where you fell asleep the next day......but it is a lot lighter than carrying a book)

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
    In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
    Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
    And sang to a small guitar,
'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
      What a beautiful Pussy you are,
          You are,
          You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!'

Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl!
    How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
    But what shall we do for a ring?'
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
    To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
    With a ring at the end of his nose,
          His nose,
          His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
    Your ring?' Said the Piggy, 'I will.'
So they took it away, and were married next day
    By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
    Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
    They danced by the light of the moon,
          The moon,
          The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.