The procession leaves Saint Patrick basilica for the fishing harbour, slithering between old workers cottages. Patrick is best know for chasing the snakes out of Ireland that was later taken over by the Brits. Despite years of hard fight, the subjects of her majesty still rule part of the territory, marching through the streets every July to celebrate their rule on the land. In Fremantle the patronage of Patrick is invoked to bless the fishing fleet. None of his followers would ever ever dare hunt the snake, king of Australia animaldom. Fish and other sea creatures are easier targets, tracked to death as a natural born enemy and food.
This Sunday, Blessing celebrations climaxed with fireworks fired at 5 PM, much before sunset. The uniform blue sky was stained with specks of white smoke and the bleeding orange flares, a most inadequate colour when reveling in Patrick things. Across the lawn from the basilica is the Fish Pub crowded with a motley mob of gawkers, kids and drunks indulging on fish, chips and a variety of liquids served by barmaids sporting fantasmagoric tatoos.

Fish of life, fish of death; a bit north of Fremantle a toothy animal is said to have taken a chunk off the leg of a surfer that same afternoon. Blessed be the shark, avenger of his brethren.