Just to cheer up the anoraks, it's Blue Pig Day

January 17 is when it all happens at Anorakville-le-sacré*. It's Pommes Bleues Day, when the sun insinuates itself through the church window at a particularly cunning angle and projects "little blue apples" on the wall or something like that. Except that this year it didn't - no sun.

I'm always intentionally even more vague than usual about this sort of stuff. I'm not a natural atheist, but I can always rely on the Great Anorak Legend to make me break out in a positively purulent rash of scepticism.

I am indebted to illustrious fellow blogger Tilling-sur-Aude (see Other Fun Links) for the main news point but would have thought no more about it, had I not seen the charming little chap in the pic.

For a start, The Blue Pig is guarding the entrance to Rouvenac where they have got Nothing-Ever-Happens-Ever down to a fine art. These people have been World Watch the Floorboards Warping Champions so many times that they keep a fine specimen in seasoned oak down at the Mairie, as a sort of trophy held in perpetuity.

Experienced rival-next-villagers will of course know that, coming from Fa, I have to say this sort of thing, so sensitive Rouvenacians shouldn't take it too much to heart. Alternatively you could revive a centuries-old blood feud and Marcel Pagnol would be proud of you.

Mind you, if that means we're going to get Emmanuelle Beart dancing around wearing not very much as Manon de Rouvenac, then maybe we should sharpen up the pointed sticks right now . . .

Actually I think the real point of The Blue Pig is that you can go and order a lovingly hand-crafted Cerulean Porker of your own, if you so desire. I'm not really into blatant plugs but he brightened up my day, so why not ?

*Alias Rennes-le-château, see previous ramblings and turnips in the blood