Tuesday, May 22, 2012

title pic Humour

Posted by dulwichmum on Thu 11 September 2008

I am sad to say that not everyone gets my sense of humor (sigh).

I popped into Sloane Square last Saturday afternoon, in search of the ideal birthday gift for my darling mother. I naturally ignored her hints as she actually wanted me to provide her with a case of Blue Nun (OHMYGOD)! Instead I purchased her a sweet cashmere twin set from Peter Jones. When I tottered up the Kings Road in search of appropriate wrapping and a greetings card, I found a super little stationers and when I saw this card, I feared I would die laughing!

I presented Brenda with the card this evening, and she didn’t seem to realize that it was meant to be humorous! “I am delighted to see that you are taking your faith more seriously,” she said. “Are you praying for a conversion for James?”

Oh dear…

I am afraid that I may have given my mother the wrong impression, since I started wearing my pretty new Santitos bracelet. It has fire polished smoke topaz and jet beads and a traditional looking medal with an image of St Expedite attached. Brenda was clearly very impressed. But the reason I adore this bracelet is the uncertainty regarding the actual existence of this saint… The story goes that he may have been inadvertently invented by a group of nuns. In 1781, a packing case containing the body of a saint who’d been buried in the Denfert-Rochereau catacombs of Paris was sent to a community of nuns in the city. Those who sent the body wrote “Expedite” on the case, to ensure fast delivery of the corpse for the obvious reasons. The nuns got confused, assumed Expedite was the name of a martyr, prayed to him, had a bunch of prayers answered amazingly quickly and the cult of St. Expedite was born.

I couldn’t resist the trinket when I read about it. It looks just as pretty as my mothers various First Class relics, but it doesn’t claim to contain any fragments of the true cross, bone, hair or blood flakes. Brenda is a fundamentalist Roman Catholic (you think I am joking now, don’t you)!

I don’t want to be a saint if they are going to feed my corpse through a shredder and use it to make medals for middle aged ladies to hang around their necks. It sounds like much more fun in hell.

Anyone for gin?

 

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