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Gunpowder Treason and Plot

>> Thursday, November 5, 2009 –  , ,


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I wont bore you with history this time, that's what the wikipedia article and British Government Website is for.

I will say that if I were "home" in England tonight, I would be out in the freezing cold in some field somewhere with a large group of people. Burning my tongue on a baked potato wrapped in foil and freezing my fingers because you can't eat baked potato while wearing gloves. I would be watching as an effigy of Guy Fawkes, made from old clothes belonging to someone's dad and stuffed with straw, is burned on the top of a huge bonfire, making sure not to stand too close to it as I wouldn't want to singe my eyebrows. Finally I would be watching a fireworks display out in the back of the field. On the way home I would be able to see fireworks going off in neighbours backyards. Everyone's dogs would be locked up indoors with the radio playing, so that they don't go crazy at the whooshes and bangs from the fireworks.

The next day (as a child) I would be wrapped up in a warm coat, scarf and gloves, hunting around in the fields for the fireworks burned the night before and collecting them in a pile on the wet grass.

Funny how when you're away from your home country and have been for so long (nearly 3 years now), that you miss traditions that you never particularly cared for when you lived there.

On an unrelated note, Mikey is sick. He has a temperature of 101 and woke three times before finally refusing to go back to sleep on his own at midnight. We spent the rest of the night on the couch watching Pocoyo and drinking lots of tea. I am exhausted.

>>  Posted by satakieli at 9:00 AM |   |  send email  | 

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I am a 24 year old British stay at home mother to a two year old boy. Married to a U.S. soldier and currently living in Germany.

I have seen the Vatican from the very top of St Peter's Basilica, the mud in the World War I trenches outside Ypres. I have walked through Montmartre side streets bustling with people in the evening, gotten lost in the streets of Greenwich Village NYC, run through cornfields on the Welsh border and sat outside with a cup of tea watching fireflies in the fields of the outer Chicago suburbs.

I have held the hands of others through addiction, fear, suicide, despair and come out the other side. I have left everything behind to begin anew.
I have fought mental illness and walked through snow in the mountains of the lake district, England. I have explored the morgue in the bowels of an abandoned hospital on a summer evening, climbed to the top of scaffolding on the outside of a five floor warehouse to look at the city lights of Nottingham at night and I have watched the sun setting on the Texas horizon.

I have held my son's tiny hand through the plastic window on an isolette in the NICU ward. Walked, speaking only in whispers, through the catacombs beneath the ground on the outskirts of Rome and seen the fireworks over Heidelberg castle.

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