A Tale of a Princess

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, on December 2nd at 16:16, a Princess was born, with golden hair and bright green eyes. (Okay, blue eyes, but they eventually turned green).

She lived with her mother, father and brother in a big, big house at the top of a big, big hill, in a strange country where the sun never shone and it always rained, and the people spoke a strange language, without vowels. (Come on, cwtch??)

This was where she learned to torment her brother mercilessly, and wrap her father around her little finger. The Evil Queen was a little harder to manipulate, but succumbed eventually.

The Princess went to school where she learned to write all her ‘d’s and ‘b’s back to front perfectly, and where she met her BFF.

She led a charmed life, stuffed her pockets with slugs and spiders, and made the Queen terrified of laundry and pockets. She wore her shoes on the wrong feet, and her favourite colour was blue. She liked to decapitate her dolls and save them for the health visitor who came to see her brother.

She went to ballet (think elephant) art (she was, and is, very arty) and made everyone very, very happy. She prayed once a week at the high altar of the Pick ‘n’ Mix counter of Woolworths. (She actually cried when she heard it closed down).

Once, she went to see a real Queen, and insisted on dressing herself and putting her shoes on the right feet. She gave the real Queen and Prince an eyeful as their car passed. Later, the Evil Queen discovered that the Princess had forgotten to wear her knickers.

One day, the family decided to move their Kingdom to a land where the sun always shone and where it never, ever rained. The Princess told her teachers and they all cried. She told her BFF, who howled and broke all our hearts. The BFF’s parents were extremely angry and stamped their feet, but were happy enough with a pilfered light fitting and a few bottles of left-over booze from the abdicating King and Queen.

The BFF was inconsolable. The Princess moved anyway. She learned a new language  – with far too many vowels – and grew even more tall and beautiful. She still tormented her brother, but loved him a bit more as time went on.

isseyandjosh

She found new BF’s – but there’ll only ever be one BFF, L.G. x – and discovered that boys are way less complicated than girls. Except when the Princess fell in love – then boys became really complicated.

She learned to dream and think in her new language, and swear profusely. She grew up to be kind, willing, very untidy, love all creatures (2 legged and 4 legged) however mangy, and bring them home, and she still keeps the King wrapped around her little finger. She’s not terribly keen on the Queen these days, but that’ll pass, and they love each other really.

They might, possibly, all live happily ever after.

Happy Birthday

Today, as it happens, she’s 17, her lucky number, and her lucky year. Happy birthday Smelly, have a great one. xxx

 

Advertisements

Witchery Pokery in Spain

I am aware Hallowe’en has passed, yes.

I can hardly believe its December already though, the curse of growing older and watching time speed past me. If anyone speaks fluent Fly please let them know to buzz off for winter – we appear to have an entire grist upon us, despite living at altitude here in the Alpujarra.

Back to the witchery pokery of the title…Have you heard of the Sabia, or white witch, often found in these little white, rural villages? We have, she lives right next door in fact.

Jean_François_Millet;_a_collection_of_fifteen_pictures_and_a_portrait_of_the_painter,_with_introduction_and_interpretation_(1900)_(14784165573).jpg

The Sabia

Traditions and superstitions abound in the pueblos of Andalucia . The story of the Sabia or white witch is one that still endures.

Known to have powers that could cure where the village doctor failed, known to be good with nature, and often with a history of spectacular healing where traditional medicine has failed, she is regarded with esteem and never extorts money. (Although I think her palm is often crossed with silver 🙂 )

Busier than any local bar, her door is opened with regularity, especially at the weekend or during the holidays as folk from far and near – often travelling great distance – come and see her. Asking around, I’m told she once brought a child – a little girl –  from death’s door back to the here and now – the doctor’s couldn’t help her, there rests her ‘proof’, and her good reputation.

Have you heard of the Sabia before? Do you have one in your pueblo?