But we must leave realm of the Highlanders and travel to the Continent in order to cull the deeply devout devotions (or is it supremely silly superstitions?) towards the Apostle known as Prōtoklētos (First-Called) whose name in Greek means "manly". (Are we seeing a pattern here yet?) In parts of Germany, Austria, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Poland, Russia and Romania, the belief exists that the night before St. Andrew's Day is specially suitable time that reveals a young woman's future husband. Many related customs exist: for example, the pouring of hot lead into water (in Poland, one usually pours hot wax from a candle through a key hole into cold water), divining the future husband's profession from the shape of the resulting piece. In some areas in Austria, young women would drink wine and then recite a supplication, called Andreasgebet (Saint Andrew's prayer). Yet another custom was to throw a clog over one's shoulder: if it lands pointing to the door, the woman will get married in the same year. In some parts of the Czech Republic and Slovakia, young women would write down the names of potential husbands on little pieces of paper and stick these into little pieces of dough, called Halusky. When cooked, the first one to float to the surface of the water would reveal the name of their future husband. In Poland, some women put pieces of paper (on which they have written potential husbands) under the pillow and first thing in the morning they take one out, which allegedly reveals their future husband. In Romania, it is customary for young women to put forty-one grains of wheat beneath their pillow before they go to sleep, and if they dream that someone is coming to steal their grains that means that they are going to get married next year. Also in some other parts of the country the young women light a candle from Easter and bring it, at midnight, to a fountain and they ask St. Andrew to let them glimpse their future husband.
Now all these inane imprecations are ersatz enough to make one a wee bit thirsty. While ye Lassies are figurin' out which kooky custom will give ye yer best shot a homing in on a holy hunny, me and th' Laddies will meander over ta Loch Lomond and celebrate Saunt Andra with a dram o' scotch.
Ouch! You're supposed to throw the shoe towards the door, not me!
Mr. Screwtape