Showing posts with label Name the Cat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Name the Cat. Show all posts

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Winnifrede



Diminutive: Winnie

After St. Winifred of Holywell and my beloved and much missed (Welsh) Grandma, Winifred White.

Winner of Name-the-Cat contest: Me.

Runner up: DF, for suggesting Algernon.

If a second cat is added at a later date, he will, of course, be named Beuno, to make a matched set.

Saint Winifred
Saint Winifred, whose actual name was Gwenfrewi, was a seventh-century Welsh nun.St Winefride According to legend, she was the only child of noble parents; and was taught by the monk Beuno. Winifred decided to become a nun. But, one Sunday, alone at home, Winifred was the victim of attempted rape by Prince Caradog. Escaping, Winifred fled towards Beuno's church; but Prince Caradog caught her on the hillside, and cut off her head. Beuno cursed the unrepentant Caradog, who melted away. Then he replaced Winifred's head, prayed over her - and the girl was restored to life. She became a nun, and eventually became abbess at Gwytherin, where she died. Her grave there was a place of pilgrimage until her body was taken to Shrewsbury in 1138.

Holywell did not forget its saint. Where her head fell, legend says, a spring of healing water broke forth. Here, after her resurrection, Winifred sat with Beuno on the stone still called by his name. Here he told her that anyone seeking help through her prayers at that spot would find it. And from that day to this, people have visited St Winifred's holy well on pilgrimage.

Winifred is more than a legend. Her 'Life' was not recorded until the twelfth century; but earlier evidence to the central core of truth in the legend has survived, in material unknown to the medieval authors. Winifred was related to the Powysian royal family. Beuno was actually her uncle; and St Tenoi, whom she succeeded as abbess at Gwytherin, her great-aunt. These familial relationships place Winifred firmly within the Welsh historical tradition. Most revealingly, she had a brother Owain, who killed Caradog in revenge: indicating that, whatever the exact truth of her death-and-resurrection legend, it does have a basis in historical fact.

And recently a fragment of an eighth-century reliquary from Gwytherin, the Arch Gwenfrewi (Winifred's Casket), was found, witnessing her status as a recognised saint almost from the moment of her death, c.650 - the earliest such surviving evidence for any Welsh saint.

Holywell

Holywell first enters written history in 1093, when 'Haliwel' was presented to St Werburgh's Abbey, Chester. In 1240, the Welsh prince Dafydd ap Llewelyn, once more in control of this area in Wales, gave the holy well and church to the newly-established Basingwerk Abbey; and the Cistercian monks cared for the well and its pilgrims until the Reformation.

Winifred's fame, and with it the fame of the Well, continued to spread throughout the middle ages, but little is factually recorded about the pilgrimage. By 1415, her feast had become a major solemnity throughout Wales and England. Kings could be found among her pilgrims. Henry V came in 1416. Richard III maintained a priest at the Well. But it was during the reign of the Welsh Henry VII that devotion reached its pinnacle, with the building of the present well-shrine under the patronage of Henry's mother, Margaret Beaufort.

Such glory was short lived, though the Well's fame was never eclipsed. The Reformation swept away shrines and pilgrimages; but no attempt ever quite succeeded in destroying devotion to St Winifred at her Well. Through all the years of religious persecution, pilgrims, Catholic and non-Catholic alike, continued to visit Holywell. It became the centre of Catholic resistance. James II and his queen visited the Well in 1686, to pray for an heir. But James was exiled, and the persecution renewed. Through these long years, Holywell and its pilgrims were served by the Jesuits. They wrote popular Lives of the saint; and even kept inns in the town, where Mass could be said in comparative safety.

Saturday, April 05, 2008

The mystery cat


will arrive on Monday afternoon. She is a seven year old grey shorthair.

I was going to go with Algernon, but now that I know I have a girl-cat, other arrangements must be made.

More suggestions please, or the poor creature is going to get stuck with "Honoria".

Thursday, April 03, 2008

"Pangur Ban"


means "white cat", I've discovered,

Here's the rest of the poweme:

I and Pangur Bán, my cat
'Tis a like task we are at;
Hunting mice is his delight
Hunting words I sit all night.

Better far than praise of men
'Tis to sit with book and pen;
Pangur bears me no ill will,
He too plies his simple skill.

'Tis a merry thing to see
At our tasks how glad are we,
When at home we sit and find
Entertainment to our mind.

Oftentimes a mouse will stray
In the hero Pangur's way:
Oftentimes my keen thought set
Takes a meaning in its net.

'Gainst the wall he sets his eye
Full and fierce and sharp and sly;
'Gainst the wall of knowledge I
All my little wisdom try.

When a mouse darts from its den,
O how glad is Pangur then!
O what gladness do I prove
When I solve the doubts I love!

So in peace our tasks we ply,
Pangur Bán, my cat, and I;
In our arts we find our bliss,
I have mine and he has his.

Practice every day has made
Pangur perfect in his trade;
I get wisdom day and night
Turning darkness into light.

...or something smartysmart clever...

Sui generis

absit invidia

actus reus (most cats are guilty)

or maybe just "culpa"

prandium, because for cats, it always is.

cacoethes scribendi

Or perhaps more Wodehousian...


"Bertie, it is young men like you who make a person with the future of the race at heart despair." - Aunt Agatha

Bertie
Bingo
Honoria
Egbert
Percy
Dahlia
Nobby
Stiffy
Beefy
Corky
Chuffy
Biffy
Lord Chiswick
Boko
Tuppy
The Basset
Gussie
Rosie Banks
Potter-Pirbright
Professor Pringle
Sir Watkyn
Stilton Cheesewright
The Rev. Aubrey Upjohn
Gwladys (with a "w")
McIntosh
Pim (though I would insist he spell it "Pymme")


Or perhaps a portmanteau: "Snodsley-in-the-Wold"

Tough to come up with a catchy diminutive though...

...hmmmm...

Maybe I will have to get fifteen cats, just to take up all the names I like.

"Alban"



St. Alban was a man living in the town of Verulamium at the beginning of the 4th century. Although he was a worshipper of Roman gods he gave shelter to a Christian priest fleeing from the persecution of the Romans. With the help of Alban the priest escaped. However, Alban was arrested and taken for execution. Legend tells us that on the hill-top a spring of water miraculously appeared to give the martyr a drink. The original executioner refused to carry out the deed, and that after his replacement had killed Alban the executioners' eyes dropped out.

Alban was beheaded and in 793 King Offa of Mercia founded a monastery on the site of the execution and was renamed St. Albans.

Hunting


a monk in the 800s wrote this
little ditty in the margin of a manuscript he was copying:

"I and Pangur Ban my cat,
'Tis a like task we are at:
Hunting mice is his delight,
Hunting words I sit all night."



tx. to KM.