Today is St Andrew’s Day. He is the patron saint of Scotland, Greece, Russia, Sicily, and Romania. Andrew was one of the twelve disciples, and the founder of the Church of Byzantium. He was apparently crucified by Emperor Nero, but before that sorry end he is said to have brought the boy with the five loaves and two fishes to Jesus. I always loved that miracle. I ended up loving my food, too.

Various traditions associated with St Andrew’s Day involve single women looking for lurve, e.g., dreaming of your future husband on St Andrew’s Eve. Or husbands coming from the direction where you hear dogs barking. Or husbands being suggested by the shadow of molten wax. Or throwing shoes at doors.

Some Romanian traditions involve wolves, who, it’s said, can eat all the animals they want on that day. Apparently they can speak too on St Andrew’s Day, but anyone who hears them will DIE.

(Isn’t it weird that if you repeat your own name to yourself often enough you start wondering if that really is your name?! Maybe that is some sort of magic too.)

Patron of wolves, ropemakers, and fisherman. A motley selection. And some bizarre superstitions.

This week’s writing experiment tasks you on a bit of research into your own name’s saint, or your saint’s day (the feast day associated with your birthday). Or just make one up: create your own fireside goddess, or household deity, or holy man or woman. Someone to look over you. Maybe you can even print out a picture and create a little shrine of associated objects.

Then, write a story or a poem about your own saint or saint’s day. Something fun, something with life, something in some way or other holy, and wholly your own.