Saturday, 19 March 2011

Saintly progress.

St Patrick is not a recognised patron saint of rain.

Which is a real shame, because this month I am trying to link every post to rain (see here) and the other day was St Patrick’s Day.

And it didn’t rain.

If you go to – “notes about your extended family in heaven” – you will find a handy index that very quickly allows you to find the patron saint for almost anything.

There you will learn of nine individuals to whom you can prey and shout should you need rain, and another four listed for your aid should you need it to stop.

Interestingly, to my warped mind anyway, there are two candidates who will do both for you; which seems a little inconsistent to me – I wouldn’t be happy laying candles at his feet asking for rain knowing that my neighbour was doing the exact opposite.

I’d want someone a little more partial.

St Patrick isn’t the patron saint for drivers either.

Which is a shame because this St Patrick’s Day just-passed my son discovered – against all evidence to the contrary (he had had a little incident on a roundabout) – that he had passed his driving test.

So we went to the Irish Pub in Toulouse to celebrate – I had a half of Guinness and he had a bottle of Corona, though I had offered champagne.

About 70 per cent of the city's population had also decided to go to the same pub and in anticipation the local council had closed part of the road junction where the pub stands.

Getting from the crowded roadside to the insane bar-side took about all evening - though I got to know a few people quite intimately along the way and returning to a breathing space on the edge of the throng took the rest.

My son asked me -"Why do people celebrate st Patrick's day like this."

A good question, for which, answer have i none. lists four patron saints for motorists – which seems a bit weird to me considering that they all died yonks before the thing was even dreamt of by Henry Ford.

One of them is Christopher, who if memory serves me well was ‘de-sanitised’ by one of the grumpy old popes a few years back.

Still he’s one of my favourites, apparently my parents named me after him - so what better way to celebrate St Patrick’s?

I gave Loui the keys, we put some U2 onto the CD-player, turned it up as loud as the suspension would allow and drove home.

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