Buy this. It’s real.

This morning was our regular ten week hike to Upper Hale to see Kate. The girls were very excited to get up and go as I located their lead in the car. They were more excited as I opened the door and ordered them to wait. When I said “Okay,” they both burst out of the house and headed for the park.

We arrived at Kate’s and I handed them both over, which is when their excitement abated. I then headed into town.

While it was extremely cold first thing, by the time I reached the cricket ground it was rather warm. The sun was out, the sky was blue, it was all lovely.

Blind Bishop Steps

I ended up in Starbucks for some much needed coffee and a chat with Clara who understands my annoyance with the parents who screech. It was then shopping before heading home.

On the walk home I was accompanied by Alfie’s owner for most of the way home. She told me about various people she talks to in the park. Apart from the horrid man who smirks at her, there’s the fellow who, as they walked by the 6 Bells, asked her if she’d like to have a drink.

The thing is, she doesn’t actually know him. She asked if I thought it was a bit odd. I had to agree that I did. However, I did say it might have been because he was lonely. She thought that could have been the case.

I didn’t know him from her description but, as I explained, we dog walk at different times.

Then, at lunchtime, Kate dropped the girls back and they looked gorgeous.

Emma not too sure

I’ve never known a pair of dogs less capable of posing for photographs. I sat on the floor trying to get a decent photo of them. The above was the best one of Emma. Freya managed to sit on the chair and stopped wandering around maniacally for a fraction of moment.

Of course they thought they should go on a walk after lunch and no amount of telling them they’d already been on a long one worked. Still, they managed to get over it.

The title refers to a scene in Jan de Lichte, the Flemish series I’m currently watching. In the scene, a group of pilgrims sell a vial containing drops of blood from Jesus’s side where it was pierced by the spear.

The beauty of the scene was how they sold the vial to the priest. They talked about everything they had (bits of this saints, part of that one, etc) but left a small golden box. The priest (who was horrid and definitely a baddie) would not be fooled. He wanted the golden box.

But, no,” The head pilgrim cried, “It is for the Bishop of Ghent especially.

The priest would not be put off and, eventually, we see him presenting a tiny vial of Jesus’s blood to his congregation. He then gets killed.

Apart from his death, the scene was very funny and played beautifully. It makes me wonder how people can be so ridiculously gullible.

Mind you, this country believes Nigel Farage so I guess gullibility isn’t the sole preserve of Catholics. Snake oil can be bought anywhere, at any time, from the right salesman.

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