When I was an au pair in Italy in the summer of 1988 (and can I tell you that it is appalling to think that the child I minded must now be 39), I awoke on the morning of July 26 to find a rather appealing pair of green ruffled pyjamas in a parcel on the end of my bed.
What was this for you ask (as did I). It was my saint’s name day. Not something I had ever been aware of before and certainly not something that was celebrated in Ireland. I was charmed; and I would remember occasionally over the years but mostly I forgot. However, yesterday, a religious friend texted me “Happy St Anne’s Day!” so I remembered and this morning lit a candle at the rather pedestrian statute in the church. Can’t say that St. Anne was experiencing a great deal of love on her name day judging by the number of candles lit but perhaps they had gone out overnight.
