Loic and the unholy relics.

In the short space of time since Loic’s resurrection from the dead there seems to have developed some sort of cult surrounding him and it is now virtually impossible to go anywhere about the grounds of Chateau Loufoque without espying one or two females hiding behind trees or walls hoping to get a glimpse of him. It is most distressing m especially as some of them managed to inadvertently trample the asparagus bed in their eagerness to get closer to their idol.

Only yesterday evening Madame Grognonne was forced throw a bucket of water over a group of young sardine gutters from Paimpol who had come all the way from the coast just for a chance to stroke Loic’s leg which they apparently believed would cure their “fish filliters finger”, a common affliction amongst their profession, it is, so I am given to understand, a similar complaint to tennis elbow but decidedly more odoursome and less socially acceptable.

Unfortunately all this interest has meant that Loic is still disporting himself about the place with a skip in his step. Jacques is worried that should he remove the leg in order to straighten it out with a few well aimed hits with the lump hammer someone might steal it for a souvenir the moment his back is turned. This is not as unlikely as it sounds as an enterprising old swineherds form the next village, who fortuitously for him, discovered Loic’s missing hand after falling in the fosse on the way home from a rather drunken evening at the bar tabac, put it up for auction to the highest bidder and the curé purchased it for the princely sum of 12 Francs, a bottle of holy water and a dozen church candles.

The curé has now given it a polish up and has had it chained to the makeshift altar so that wives of all shapes and sizes may now pay highly for the privilege of lining up in order to kiss it in the hope of ensuring fertility. I understand that this was causing quite a disruption this morning as several men came from their work to find the midday repas unprepared and the hearth cold as their wives were out in the square pinning their hopes upon my gardeners discarded appendage.

At one stage the gendarmes had to be called away form their luncheon as a fight had broken out between some of the women who were accusing each other of spending too long fondling the fingers and therefore depriving others of the experience. All I can say is that obviously news of the devastating effects of his groin injury is not as yet common knowledge.

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This photograph was taken just before a slight fracas at the shrine today. Behind the shrine you can spot a group of men returning from work and seeking out their wives in the crowd. As you can see the curé has moved fast in constructing a more formal structure for the veneration of St Fiancre and Loic’s hand. If you look carefully at the girl at the front of the picture you will of course be able to instantly recognise the distinctive dress of the unmarried fish filleters of Paimpol although obviously the sardine embroidery on the lace cap is not clearly visible from the photograph. The gentleman standing next to her is commenting unkindly on the fishy aroma which is an unfortunate hazard of their trade. However since he is the swineherd who sold the curé Loic’s hand I hardly think he is in a position to cast aspersions on the personal hygiene of others.