St. Anley is the patron saint of illumination. His annual festival of light is celebrated during September in a famous seaside town ... in the north-west of England.
I don't share this secret widely but my middle name is STANLEY! (Aaaaargh!)
Throughout life this has caused significant hostility between my parents and me. I fabricated the existence of St. Anley when I became a purveyor of light bulbs. Here is the limerick of St. Anley:
St. Anley the incandescent
Married a compact fluorescent,
When she turned him on, his filament had gone,
So fertility is sadly deficient.
Notwithstanding this fiction, I was reassured by coming across the 'Pool of St. Stanislav' in Krakow earlier this year. It is said that St. Stanislav's water has healing properties. What price should I put on the contents of MY bladder, then?
Here he is below:
His outflow is above. (I think he needs attention to his prostate.)
The water didn't taste too good. I didn't die painlessly and my paranoid tendencies persisted. In the end I opted for more traditional remedies:
If you look carefully in the foreground of this picture you will discern a glass of Polish beer. The background was completely (and delightfully) accidental. I must return to this scene and get the focusing right!
No comments:
Post a Comment