Bonfire Night was last Wednesday. I did not hear anyone refer to it as Guy Fawes day, although N came home from school knowing the first few lines of the poem. The mid-week occurence seemed to have lead to spread, with lots of events scheduled for the weekend before or after in addition to day of, and we have heard or seen fireworks pretty much every night for the past ten days. The city-sponsored events have been canceled every year since COVID, although it seemed like this year the announcement came fairly late and there were still listings on various city websites which led to a lot of confused traffic in various Whatsapp groups.

It took some digging to find a private event that wasn't either sold out or required buying tickets in person from a bar that was closed for three days before their event was held. There was one at a rugby club. The kids saw their friends from school and immediately vanished into the muddy darkness once it became clear that we were not going to buy them popcorn or some kind of LED mini-pool-noodle. Anticipating a long walk home, including a quarter mile or so down an unlit road with a fair amount of car traffic, we did not partake of the club's bar. Luckily the rugby club bathrooms were, let's say, athletic, but at least they were indoors.

There was an hour or so of milling around outside before things kicked off. The kids were busy chasing each other with the light-up thingys. It had been a while since I saw a bonfire. The last I remember was the annual July 4th party held by friends of my parents where all the kids tossed in the notebooks from the previous year. The lighting was a bit of an anticlimax because the pile of pallets took a while to get going, but within 15 minutes or so I was thinking "It looks awfully close to those trees full of dead leaves." No one else seemed worried so I guess not having to take drought precautions is one consolation of English weather. Then the fireworks started. There were a line of setups in a row on far end of the field, which was roped off from the party. For each launch a team of men in neon safety vests scurried over to a rocket, set it off, and scurried to safety which added an element of drama.

Update on the school children who were in costume to learn about the Great London Fire. They also baked biscuits, did a traditional dance, and used a quill to write a diary entry in the manner of Samuel Pepys!!!! This is in the equivalent of US first grade. Meanwhile, N has had to teach himself cursive because those schools in Massachusetts that haven't given it up entirely don't get to it until third grade and the English kids started learning it in kindergarten.