Happy Birthday, You Saintly Bastard

October 19th, St Frithuswith

Frithuswith, Frideswide or Friðuswīþ,
October 19th, 650

In the early years of the 5th Century, around 408 AD, there was a terrible winter in which the Rhine froze, and the German tribes, who had been crammed up against the river by the advancing Huns, took the opportunity to flood across and into northern Gaul, where they set about doing what invading Germans do in France - drinking too much wine, eating all the food and setting up totalitarian puppet governments—that sort of thing.

This annoyed the Britons somewhat because 1) The British have always hated the Germans, and 2) The only people they hate more than the Germans are the French. So Britain raised its own Roman Emperor, who set off to go and beat the shit out of them all. He was called Constantine, just because it sounded cool.

There was also the small matter of Britain having been cut off from the rest of the Empire, which caused them to believe the whole thing had been overrun by barbarians, and Constantine was sent to go and see what in the hell was going on. When he got to France, what he found was that far from being overrun, the Empire and, more importantly, the Emperor, Honorius, were just fine, thanks. So Honorius strangled Constantine and threw him in the sea, because fuck him.

In something of a panic, the British, realising that Constantine had taken all the army with him and, with a load of Danish fishermen called the Angles bearing down on them, hired some Saxon mercenaries to fight them off. They then asked Honorius if they could come back, pretty please and thank you, because, after all, they hadn’t really meant any harm by trying to usurp him - they thought he was dead. To show that they meant it, they also threw out the remaining veneer of elite Roman society - the people who had decided Constantine was Emperor now.

Honorius told them to fuck off, and because the British are nothing if not cantankerous bastards, they fucked off. With no Roman elite, there was nobody to collect taxes, and with the mercenaries available, should those Danish wankers should up again, Rome could do one.

So, Roman rule ended in Britain. Unfortunately, everyone then forgot how to do things like count and be civilised and how lanterns worked, so they decided to have The Dark Ages instead. One of the most notable things about the sub-Roman period was that everyone who stood still long enough was turned into a saint despite performing ‘miracles’ that would otherwise seem quite mundane in Britain, like making it fucking rain or something. Rain in Britain is normal, not miraculous. In Britain, it is either raining or about to start raining. There is never a period of ‘un-rain’.

Similarly, the Welsh Saint, David, is the patron Saint of the country and whose feast day, March 1st, is the National Day of Getting More Drunk Than You Already Are, which Welsh people traditionally celebrate by drinking and fighting each other in the street. His particularly unimpressive miracle was to make a hill grow, which, in a country without a flat area of land bigger than that on which you can balance a pint of beer, is utterly meaningless. Travelling anywhere in Wales is either a matter of heading uphill or downhill - another fucking hill is the last thing we need.

Over in England, St Frideswide performed her saintly miracle by being too lazy to go and get water from the river Thames and ‘praying’ for a well to appear. Due to the aforementioned rain, you can drill down in almost any location in the British Isles and immediately hit the water table, which is never more than about an inch below your feet. The whole of Britain is a sponge. If Britain ever dried out, it would be the size of Russia. The spectacular nonsense ‘art’ of ‘dowsing’ was invented in Britain because walking in any direction whilst carrying a twig will always result in the discovery of water simply because it’s impossible to miss.

So here is St. Frideswide, with one of the most pointless ‘miracles’ of all time:

Saint Frithuswith, often referred to as Frideswide, is venerated as the patron saint of Oxford. She was born in 650 AD, according to tradition, into a noble Saxon family. Her father, Didan, was a Mercian sub-king, and her mother, Safrida, was a devout Christian who ensured Frithuswith received a Christian upbringing from an early age. From her youth, Frithuswith felt a deep religious calling, dedicating herself to a life of prayer and chastity.

Rejecting the conventional path of marriage, Frithuswith made a vow of virginity, a commitment she took seriously despite pressure from those around her. The most significant story associated with her early life revolves around Algar, a powerful Mercian nobleman, who sought her hand in marriage. Frithuswith firmly refused, choosing to honour her religious vows. But Algar, angered by her rejection, attempted to abduct her by force. According to legend, Frithuswith fled to the woods to escape his pursuit, praying for divine protection. As Algar's men approached Oxford, they were suddenly struck blind. Recognizing this as a miracle and a sign from God, Algar abandoned his pursuit, leaving Frithuswith in peace.

After the threat subsided, Frithuswith returned to Oxford and continued her spiritual work. She is credited with founding a convent near the banks of the River Thames, where she became the abbess. This site later became the foundation of what would eventually be the University of Oxford's Christ Church, and the place where Frithuswith’s shrine would later be established. Her role in the creation of this religious community solidified her importance, and her influence continued to grow as the convent became a centre of prayer, learning, and healing.

Frithuswith’s reputation for piety extended beyond her convent, as she was believed to have performed several miracles during her life. One of the most famous tales involves her summoning a spring of water during a time of drought, which miraculously flowed forth to provide sustenance to her community. This miracle enhanced her status as a holy woman, and pilgrims began to visit her even during her lifetime, seeking healing and spiritual guidance.

Saint Frithuswith passed away around 727 AD, and her relics were venerated at the church in Oxford, which became a place of pilgrimage. Her shrine remained an important religious site until the Reformation when many such relics and shrines were destroyed. However, her legacy endured, and her association with Oxford remains deeply ingrained in the city's identity. Frithuswith is still remembered each year on her feast day, celebrated on October 19, with ceremonies held at Christ Church Cathedral.

Although the historical details of Saint Frithuswith’s life have been shaped by legend, her legacy as a spiritual leader and a woman of deep faith continues to be celebrated today. As Oxford’s patron saint, her name is linked with the city's religious and academic history.

Her ‘translation’ day is February 12th, which is the day she is ‘translated’ into a dead person, and her ‘invention’ day is May 15th. ‘Invention’ in this context, the Church tries to tell us, is the day on which her relics were ‘discovered’, although you may note, with some scepticism, that they didn’t call this her ‘discovery’ day, right?