Well, well, well.

I accept that faith requires a certain degree of detachment from reality. If it didn't, cynicism and logic would take over and we'd all be soulless automatons. Or Mr Spock. I am differentiating between religion and faith here as while I don't subscribe to any particular religion, I do have faith. I trust that's clear. No? Oh well, what a pity, never mind.

Sometimes I hear tales that are somewhat far fetched. Often though I can see the seed that spawned the tale and see where things may have been exaggerated or poetic licence taken. A tale I read this week though just seems so far removed from any kind of reality I'm at a complete loss.

North Wales circa 630AD. A particularly attractive young girl with a reputation for possessing great intellect decides to give herself over to Christ and become a nun. The local prince thinks that would a terrible waste so goes to see her to suggest instead she become a princess. Not a bad deal you might think, and certainly Disney have made a few bob by suggesting that it's every young girls dream. Anyway, our heroine decides that rather than be a princess she'd prefer to remain chaste and live in poverty. Great intellect you see.

Unwilling to take no for an answer the young prince goes from charming suitor to potential rapist, and our heroine takes flight down the hill towards the local church where her family are attending mass. I know what you're thinking, she's planning on becoming a nun but doesn't go to mass with her family? She's not that committed is she? Anyway, being the sensible and level headed dashing young prince that he is, our villain whips out his sword and lops her head off. The head rolls down the hill and comes to rest on a slight plateau. Suddenly, water starts to spring up through the ground, bathing the head and ruining her hair do.

Our heroine's uncle, who was taking the mass she didn't bother going to, hears of his niece's fate. Again, I know what you're thinking, where some particularly chatty sheep watching that suddenly ran into the church to bleat? Someone send him a tweet on his i-phone? There's no suggestion that there were any witnesses so what alerted him remains a mystery. Having been alerted though, he and her parents leave the church and attend to the head, picking up the soggy bonce and taking it back up the hill to where the body lay, placing it back on the neck and covering it with a cloak. You'd think at this point that seeing their murdered daughter lying on the side of the hill sans head there'd be some form of outpouring of sorrow. A desire to apprehend the murderer. Pay last respects. No, they all went back to the church to finish mass and possibly tea and biscuits. Maybe a flan.

With mass over, the family head back out to the body and the uncle kneels beside her, bearing his soul in prayer. Personally I imagine this bit to be like Britain's Got Talent with the holy trinity hovering over their buzzers while watching. The uncle, managing to complete his prayer without a single “X” wins a holiday home in Bangor and his niece resurrected. Yes, when he removes the cloak the head has been reattached and our heroine is fine and dandy. I wonder if he thought to say “Ta-da!” as he pulled the cloak away, and I hope he got a round of applause. Again though my imagination runs away with me a bit because the picture I can't get out of my head is that of Patty Mullen in Frankenhooker. Not exactly saintly.

Now obviously I didn't pay much attention to biology classes as I really would have expected decapitation to be terminal and so anyone having been dead, and we're not talking slight misunderstanding with finding a pulse here, to then be up and about at the very least would have been accused of being a witch, with the village gathered and set to collecting kindling. And if not a witch then what? You're dead but now you're walking about. That would make you a zombie? Surely? Again, villagers, kindling, marshmallows.

Attention now turns to our villain. Maybe it's just me, but if I'd just decapitated someone on a Welsh hillside I think my immediate reaction would not be to hang about. I think at the very least I would leave the area, possibly burn my clothes, but definitely not put my sword into the ground and lean on it. So what does our villain do? He puts his sword in the ground and leans on it while the family come out, collect the head, put it by the body, cover with the cloak, return to the church, finish mass, come back out, pray, and finally remove the cloak (ta-da, round of applause, bow to circle, bow to the stalls). I'm sure he did regret this somewhat odd decision as once our heroine was breathing again, her uncle called forth the wrath of God and the ground opened and took the prince away, presumably to the bowels of Hell. Bit excessive if you ask me, given that even decapitation didn't appear to cause any real harm in the end. I think had he gone to the court of appeal he'd have had a case.

Resurrected and by all accounts ecstatic at being able to breath again, our heroine spends the next twenty two years of her un-death as a recluse, until Jesus himself appeared to tell her that her un-death would soon be reclassified to re-death.

The site where her decapitated head came to rest and the spring appeared is now a place of pilgrimage for people to bathe in the waters, preying 3 times to be cured. Much like the way you'd call Beetlejuice, with just as likely an outcome.

Go to St Winefride's Well, Holywell and see for yourself.