For the eddyfication of our friends across the pond..

... (with apologies to the BBC website this came from)

'Bonfire Night is celebrated across the UK on 5 November. The date marks the failed attempt to blow up the Houses of Parliament by Guy Fawkes1 along with a group of co-conspirators in London in 1605. The intention was to kill King James I and wipe out everyone in government. The group were Catholic extremists who wanted to return England to the Catholic faith. One of the conspirators had a friend in the Houses of Parliament and sent a letter to him, warning him to stay away from the House on the day the attack was supposed to take place. The letter was intercepted and handed to the king. Meanwhile, Guy Fawkes and friends, having formulated their plan, known as the 'Gunpowder Plot', had rolled 36 barrels of gunpowder into the cellars of the Houses of Parliament, and were waiting for the king to arrive when guards broke in and arrested them. They were tortured and executed.

Nowadays on Bonfire Night people organise their own parties or attend big organised fireworks displays. (Our village builds a huge bonfire in the middle of the village green and residents donate cash to pay for the very excellent firework display.) They stand around the bonfire, set off fireworks and eat lots of nice warming Bonfire Night foods, like sausages and jacket potatoes. (Well we used to, provided by the village committee, until the world and his wife decided to come to our bonfire night (for free) instead of the municipal one in the next town. Interlopers, grrr)...Which sort of suggests that people rather admire the cheek of Guy Fawkes, trying to blow up Parliament, and that's why they celebrate Bonfire night, rather than celebrating the fact that his plot failed and he was caught!

Fireworks that are sent up on Bonfire night have really evocative names like, Roman Candles, Mount Vesuvius and Golden Shower. There are also Catherine Wheels that spin and Sparklers that children write their names in the air with. Children make life-sized effigies of Guy Fawkes which are called Guys, to put onto the bonfires. The English have been burning effigies to mark Guy Fawkes' treason for almost 400 years. The tradition started in 1606, the year after the Gunpowder plot failed. In these first bonfires, called 'bone fires' at the time, it wasn't an effigy of Guy Fawkes that was burned, but one of the Pope. It was not until 1806, two centuries later, that the people started burning effigies of Guy Fawkes instead. Children make a Guy by stuffing some old clothes with newspapers, craft a head out of material, and either draw a face on it or buy a special cardboard Guy Fawkes mask. For a few days beforehand children are pushing guys around in prams, push chairs and go-carts, saying 'A penny for the guy'. Adults then give them money - how much depends on how good the guy is. The money is then spent on sparklers, or at least it would be, if children were still allowed to buy fireworks in the UK, so it is probably spent on sweets instead (or cider or heroin).'

Running out of steam

Mum's again tonight. She was in a good mood, ie enjoyed a good ole bout of character assassinations again, only this time without the photographic prompts. I think her brain must be mending itself after the stroke, but only in the bit that links memories and stories together. The bit that controls walking and short term memory is still pretty shaky. Drat. I was quite enjoying the break from gleeful bile. Still, she was content, that's the main thing. Its her 89th birthday on Thursday so I'm taking her out for tea. Hope she likes the book I bought her on the history of Middleton-St-George airfield.

I'm tired, think I'll put some washing in the machine (don't have a clean pair of knickers to my name), make a mug of Ovaltine and go to bed. Bonfire night tomorrow - yay!

Funny what you find...

... in your mother's photo collection. While she was busy tonight finding something mean to say about most of the people in the pictures (including my lovely dad) I was revisiting the past, remembered and forgotten. So when mum said I could take any photos of my son and daughter that I wanted (part of her de-cluttering obsession, some would call it a total lack of sentimentality), I managed to slip these three in as well. Each has its own link to a strong memory of bad/good/bewildering times...

The bad - mum insisted on entering me for a beauty parade. I won but that didn't erase the humiliation of hearing one of the judges say about me 'such a pretty face, what a shame about her legs'. I hated summer - short socks and short sleeved dresses meant I couldn't hide the eczema in the folds of my knees and elbows.

The good - this is me with Billy, my beautiful sky blue budgie. He was actually a she but by the time we realised, we couldn't imagine her as a him. Billy could talk - 'shut the door', 'gis kiss', 'who's a pretty boy' and would do a somersault between your feet if you asked him. He always whistled along to the tune from Z Cars. He thought it great fun to land on your head and abseil down your face, hanging onto a clump of hair. With my dad, he would fasten the other claw round the tip of his nose and tap his beak on his glasses. He was very affectionate and would snuggle up against your face all soft and warm but he could also give you a nasty nip in a tender spot. Here I'm wearing my favourite dress, a bright blue tartan in which I won the school Twist competition (the dance) when I was about 11.

The bewildering - I'd forgotten about this momentous day until I saw the photo. I'd gone to a motorcross with mum and dad but my mind was on other things. I felt confused and anxious, uncertain of a journey into uncharted territory, conscious that one part of my life was ending and another beginning. I didn't feel ready. I think I must have been about 16 (I was a late developer!). Have you guessed yet?

Yup, that was the first day I got the decorators in.

I'm not in the photo, by the way.

My zizzle has fizzled

Think it evaporated somewhere between the front door and getting into the car this morning. Oh well, it would have been extinguished by mum tonight anyway, she never misses an opportunity to comment on my weight gain (which is not THAT bad, I mean I'm not morbidly obese or anything). How would she like it if every time I went round I said 'haven't you got skinny and wrinkly and just look at those varicose veins!' Not a lot, I'd wager.

Dutiful daughters look away now.

I am finding this parenting-a-parent thing really difficult at the moment. I feel unappreciated other than for my practical usefulness with shopping etc and really resenting the demands it makes on my time and energy, both physical and emotional. Never having loved my mother Wow I actually typed that! or liked her much for that matter - we are total opposites in most things - I can't fall back on 'I remember mum when we were close, this isn't really her' to help me through the groundhog days. I composed this little ditty on the way home tonight...

I'm sure I'd
Have more fun
If I were
An orfun,
On Mondays,
Tuesdays,
Thursdays
And Saturdays.

That's as far as I've got. Bit miserable this post, innit. I may yet delete it.

polishing my halo (and my horns)

Yesterday I washed the plaster dust off the hall floor, stairs and landing (its already looking sooooooooo much better now that all the walls and ceilings have been skimmed) AND I cooked (!!!!!) a lovely lean leg of lamb (did you like the tongue work there?) with HOME MADE red wine and rosemary gravy (!!!!!!!!!!) for Sunday dinner. Himself said it was the best meal I'd cooked all year which was something of a backhanded compliment but hey, never look a gift horse in the mouth. Hmm, I suspect I may be edging towards getting a little high today. Is it the Prozac? Is it me? (Long ago, there used to be odd days when I'd wake up feeling 'dangerous', full of life, confidence and superflirtability.) Probably just as well that I'm going on a training course today instead of going into work - best not to unleash the full force of my zizzyness on a captive audience ;-) *snort* Suppose I'd better get dressed now.

Now THIS is what I'm aiming for .....

.....by letting my hair go grey. I already have a very similar cut, all I need is some super-fast silvering!

tired now

That's because I've been up since 4am. I went to bed last night before 9 - it had been a stressful day..mum in a discontented mood, mollified by my washing the kitchen floor. Then stuck in an hour's traffic jam waiting to get into the retail park with an exasperating running commentary from mum, followed by 2 dithering hours in Morrisons to buy half a week's food and another traffic jam to get out. Didn't get home until 7.30pm and by then was too exhausted and flat to feel like going to a friend's Halloween party. Anyway, woken in the early hours by him indoors' sleep apnoea, spent half an hour poking him every couple of minutes to restart his breathing then gave up when the snoring got too noisy. Wide awake by then, downstairs for tea and cake and another go at designing a better life map for the previous post. I'm nearly done but need another break. May go back to bed soon. This is not good, is it?
I didn't go back to bed, it's 10am and I've finally finished the new life map (see below). It's official, I am an idiot.