Gunpowder, treason and plot...

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
Should ever be forgot...

I've always found this rhyme a bit odd. Nothing happened! It was a non-event! Why do we need to remember an event that didn't happen? Guy Fawkes didn't blow up the Houses of Parliament, the King did not die, and for all we know Guy Fawkes himself might have been an innocent bystander who thought he was doing someone a favour by changing barrels of ale in a pub rather than rolling gunpowder into Parliament's cellars - and he was hung, drawn and quartered for his good will. After all, it was over 400 years ago. How do we REALLY know, eh? So, I find it strange that we celebrate by having bonfires and fireworks and burning effigies of poor Guy when nothing actually happened.

This, however, does not mean that I don't enjoy Bonfire Night, oh no. I do. I like the firework displays. And the bonfire. And sparklers. And I love the food. What I do not like, however, is really rubbish planning. Tonight, The Other Half and I set off to our local (I say local, it was 6 miles away) display in good time, all wrapped up against the cold. We drove around for 25 minutes searching for a parking space only to give up and defeated, we watched the display from an industrial estate a mile down the hill from the bonfire. Then we had the bright idea that by driving home over the hills, we'd be able to have a panoramic view of displays across the city. This would have been true if the fog on the hills wasn't so thick that we couldn't even see the road properly, never mind the horizon.

Anyway, what made it all better when we returned home, deflated, freezing and hungry, was the food. Jacket potatoes stuffed with cheese and leeks, herby sausages, and spicy onion soup. Topped off with a toffee apple and mug of hot chocolate. It doesn't get any better than that.