Day 12: St Pancreas

My favourite moment of today came when a teenager asked me for directions to St Pancreas.  Not St Pancras.  ST PANCREAS.  (Yes.  The Patron Saint of Insulin and All Digestive Enzymes.  Ring doughnut for a halo, and maybe carrying a ceremonial CurlyWurly).  I've just done a search for a picture of St Pancras and this is what I've turned up.  Don't know if I'm imagining things, but I reckon with a brutal fringe trim, plus the loan of a suit of armour, and some drapery, I could do a pretty fair Pancras.  Perhaps that's what we need in these times of recession, for St P is all about jobs and health.  In addition, he can be invoked against the evils of cramp, false witness, headaches and perjury.  All this in return of offerings of PARSLEY.  I've just lost all interest. 

St Macarius has the right idea.  He really is the patron saint of sweets.  Here he is, looking far more sensibly saint-like - and clearly demonstrating pride in his latest fudge recipe.

You will probably have gathered that today has been uneventful.  To Holborn and the head office of one of Britain's largest supermarkets (the orange one), only to find that they'd got mixed up with their dates, so I turned round and went back home.  Paid for doing nothing (which is always a major result) - but at the same time, once the bullet's in the chamber, I'd prefer to fire the gun.  That's the second time in a week I've had to walk round fully-loaded with nobody to shoot at.  Itchy.  

So - back to the small pleasures of today.  A particularly GOOD bag of clementines - a rare and beautiful thing. 

The fact that until five minutes ago I've been wearing a bold orange VISITOR badge.  So I have been a visitor in my own home for the last four hours.  (On reflection, I would not come again.  The facilities are poor (no gift shop or loo paper).  And it's not very interactive.)

And the quiet.  I'm alone in the house, and it's so peaceful right now that the only things I can hear are the fan in my laptop and the hum of the fridge.  It's keeping some parsley cold for St Pancras. 

Shhhhhhhh.