It was the 5th November yesterday. For all those who live outside the United Kingdom, there is a good chance you may not know the importance of this. This day, marks the celebration of Guy Fawkes; an individual who, in 1605 sought to overthrow the regime of King James I by blowing up the House of Lords. This ‘gunpowder plot’ ultimately failed and Fawkes, along with comrades was found guilty of treason and executed.
In the small town of Aberystwyth, similar to across Britain, fireworks were being set off, bonfires were raging, and crowds were huddled together for warmth and celebration. I was standing on a local hill, with a friend. From this vantage point, I could see the entire town, lit up at night. The castle ruins looked powerful, watching over the town. Looking out to sea, the water looked rough, its waves breaking, the ensuing explosion of white foam hugging the beach. I could see the crowds below hustling for space, lining the roads. This was not an issue I had to contend with from the hill: somewhat selfishly, it felt like the firework show was on display purely for the entertainment of Mike and I.
Fireworks still ignite in me a boyish charm. Sensory overload is the result. The wheeze accompanying the firework’s journey upwards builds anticipation before the loud explosion. The many bright colours and shapes against the darkness captivate my sight, preventing me from looking away. The smell of smoke in the cool still night is a welcome scent.
Finally, after the fireworks display, me and Mike walked down and joined a large group of friends on the beach. Many others had the right idea, as bonfires were dotted along, groups of people huddling around for warmth. Conversation was relaxed, and it was awesome to chill on the beach with a great group of people, late into the night.
I found this to be the recipe for an awesome November 5th! Until next year…