Captain Midnight, your international religious affairs correspondent here with a last dispatch from St Sedna’s Well in the Glen of Aherlow in County Tipperary before returning to Blighty on the ferry tonight. This is me lapping up some of the holy water this afternoon when I took Himself for a walk before he packed up Rosie and got her ready for the road.
I was in two minds whether or not to show you the next picture because frankly it’s a bit embarrassing. It’s also of me, this time trying to get out of St Sedna’s Well having fallen in whilst lapping up said holy water. For once I was glad to have Himself on the end of the rope since I could use him as an anchor to pull myself out.
I asked Himself to find out who St Sedna was, in case he was the patron saint of toads or something that falling in the well might change me into. It turns out that he was the patron saint of pretty much nothing at all. So I don’t think I have to worry about transmogrification.
Apparently Sedna was Bishop of Ossory in the 6th Century. Apart from that, no-one has ever heard of him. It seems you didn’t have to do very much apart from turn up to be made a saint in the 6th century.
I’m just left wondering whether falling in the well counts as being baptised? In which case, has my doggy soul been saved? If so, this could be a problem since Himself is definitely not going to get to heaven and despite all his faults I wouldn’t want a little thing like death to separate us.
I might have to push him in the well.
Coming Home to Story 