Processions on St. Vincent’s day feature an effeminate Vincent flinging his index finger skyward. Curates in procession wore the bishop’s red or plain black for the rank and file. Women joined in, dressed in black, middled aged and older women, with veils and a little rigid curved piece on the back of the head from which fell more black lace. They looked quite somber and dignified. A military contingent marched in goose step and bands played. Sparse crowds watched as the city’s patron saint rolled pass, some clapping as he went by. How odd, i thought, to clap for a statue. I guess if you can believe in magic bread you can clap for a statue.