liturgical life

Tomorrow is the Feast of the Fool’s namesake saint. He was born in Friesland and the founder of a monastery called Mariëngaarde in 1163. I like the Friesian connection – puts one in mind of mysterious fogs and dangerous plots and daring adventures.

I was once told that the saint’s name meant Peace Loving, which I always hesitated between taking as an in-built predisposition towards wisdom — and therefore A Good Thing — or just namby pamby. Now I hear it means Peaceful Ruler instead, a subtle but important difference, and a meaning I can embrace with no ambivalence – no matter how far it continually proves to be from the reality of my days (the “ruler” bit especially).

And Mary’s Garden (or Mary’s Orchard, as I’m told it can also be translated) is a better candidate than Coney Island for a name for the House, certainly one that bodes better for the future of the plantations on the Hill.

It is also the third anniversary of the Fool’s father’s death, an unhappier connotation, but one which has mellowed with time. I no longer carry my copies of The Spectator for weeks in the back seat of my car, waiting for the next time we meet and I can give them to him to read.

Happy St. Frederick's Day