Remembering the 5th of November
Today is November 5th, so tonight is Guy Fawkes’ Night (or Bonfire Night). This is not celebrated in the Republic of Ireland, not least because of its anti-Catholic origins, but is a big thing in the United Kingdom. In Ireland the bonfires and fireworks happen on Halloween. Bonfire Night commemorates the Gunpowder Plot of 1605, which was intended to blow up the Houses of Parliament. Guy Fawkes was supposed to light the blue touchpaper on that occasion and it has been a tradition to burn his effigy on the bonfire on the anniversary of the attempt, every November 5th, while letting off fireworks.
When I was young, Guy Fawkes’ Night was the thing we celebrated rather than Halloween. Although we didn’t put on anything elaborat, most families held their own bonfire in their garden and fireworks could easily be bought from local shops who stocked up at this time of year. Since we had open ground right in front of our house, we had very big bonfires where I grew up in Benwell which lots of other kids came to. Once, I remember, my uncle Richard brought some thunderflashes (essentially stun grenades) her had purloined when he was in the Army. They were so loud the police paid us a visit, but there were no arrests. The number of private bonfire parties has decreased markedly since then, owing to safety concerns, and they have largely been replaced by large scale organized celebrations.
Another tradition associated with November 5th also seems to have died completely. When I was a kid the thing to do was to make an effigy of Guy Fawkes (called a “Guy”) and parade him from door to door in the days before Bonfire Night – usually in a pram – asking for “Penny for the Guy”. The idea was if you had an impressive Guy, people would give you money which you used to buy fireworks for the forthcoming party. Of course you were hoping for a lot more than a penny.
I suppose that this tradition has been displaced by the American import “Trick-or-Treat”, which I think is a shame. Next thing you know, there won’t be Guy Fawkes’ Night at all; it will be called 5/11 – or would it be 11/5?
Anyway, I remember one year spending ages making a really good Guy with a head of papier mâché and plasticine for his eyes, nose and mouth. My mum knitted him a hairpiece. I was really proud of my Guy, especially when he sat on top of the huge pile of wood that was going to form the bonfire.
When it was lit – which happened before the fireworks started – the heat from the flames started to melt the plasticine features of the Guy. The other kids rushed around in excitement as the adults sorted out the Roman Candles, Catherine Wheels and the rest of the soon-to-be-ignited pyrotechnics that would go bang and whizz though not necessarily in that order. But I stood traumatised, staring at the Guy. After a few minutes I started sobbing and ran to my mum in anguish as molten plasticine dripped down his face from his eyes.
Guy Fawkes was crying…
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