it used to be the custom in brabant in the south of the netherlands and vlaanderen in the north of belgium, to make an offering of sausage to a saint called clara in order to safeguard the harvest and ask for good weather.
when i was in my 20s, if i liked a woman and i’d had a few beers, i used to joke about my holy sausage. this was in the 80s when i drank a lot of beer and smoked a lot of weed. the women were, on the whole, unimpressed by my sense of humour such as it was, but i was at a complete loss to understand why.
there are many reasons why i am grateful for old age.