Fireworks Night, Guy Fawkes and Squibbs!

Last night was a bit of a pain in the bum. Without trying to sound like the village curmudgeon, the fireworks set off by individuals and households seemed such a waste. The night was rainy and fairly blustery and each little 'display' comprised a paltry collection of noisier-than-pretty fireworks that had the cats trembling in their fur coats.

I'm not against fireworks per se, just the silliness of people setting them off in their back gardens when there's a perfectly good display put on by the village on Saturday night. We're less worried about the village sponsored display and the effect it will have on the cats too; we know what time it starts and roughly what time it will end and we can ensure the cats are with us and some loud music to mitigate the frights they will suffer. The problem with back garden fireworks is that they happen unexpectedly and from dusk to very late at night.

Ok, so maybe I am the village curmudgeon, but last year my company sponsored the organized firework display and would have done again if I'd been asked this year. As it is, I have two cats who are so clingy that I type with a bundle of nervous Bertie snuggled between me and my keyboard, while Boots is on his desk corner cat mat.

What happened to all the super games that used to happen around this time of year? I recall going to parties as a child and bobbing for apples, trying to catch apples hung on strings in my teeth and all sorts of other amusements. My uncle used to set up a brazier in the back garden (which was hedgehog-proof as side benefit) and we'd have a few sparklers and things to eat rather than shooting lots of money up into the air at the end of a blue touch-paper. Oh dear, I am turning into an old grouch.

It's a particularly English thing to do as well: celebrating the failed plot of one religious group to blow up the Establishment. Anywhere else, they'd have been tried, punished or killed and then forgotten about. We celebrate the event every year. I wonder if we ever ask ourselves why? English history is full of brutality and oppression, however much we like to portray ourselves as enlightened and "civilized" and the oppression of Catholics by the new Church of England was harsh. Perhaps it is our predilection for cheering on the under-dog and being less favourably inclined towards those who hold power that keeps this tradition going. Who knows?

Either way, this Saturday we shall find out of Boots and Bertie prefer Wagner to Def Leppard and Steeleye Span to Vivaldi; poor cats!