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"Remember, remember, the fifth of November."

"Penny for the guy"

Ah, happy childhood days stuffing old clothes of our dad's with newspaper and straw and touting the resulting 'guy' around the village.  And then watching him be thrown on the bonfire lit in the field behind the house.

When you think about it it's really very odd to get children to make effigies of a human being and then watch it being burned.  Why aren't we all scarred for life?

Instead we remember baked potatoes and tomato soup drunk out of mugs. Toasting one half of our body in front of the massive bonfire while the other half froze.  Sausages on sticks.  Fireworks and sparklers. 

Happy days.

 

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