Remember, Remember the Fifth of November

Lizzie Higgs-Boson writes:

It is November 5th already! Autumn rolls around again so fast.

I took my children, Stanley and Olivia, to the Primary School for the festivities. (It was too late for little Ivor, so his Dad stayed at home, putting him to bed).

The schoolchildren had made a lovely Guy, very lifelike and completely biodegradeable. The Fire Service have refused to come out to any more school bonfires in Dusty Mouldings, so this year the school has an exciting new twist on the whole "Burning Guy Fawkes in effigy" thing. This year they are composting the Guy instead. They have built a huge compost heap in the corner of the school field and put the Guy on top. It will take about a year for him to rot down, even soaked as he is with wee (which the Reception class, with great gusto, have been collecting). It's not quite the spectacle of a huge bonfire, but the children will be learning important lessons about recycling from it.

We all ate baked potatoes and roasted chestnuts ("Warning! May contain nuts!") , drank hot chocolate and watched the firework display. I thought it was a magnificent show considering the budget the PTA had for it. They can't have paid full retail price for all those fireworks. Someone must have a Cash and Carry card.

Mary didn't come. She objects to Bonfire Night. She says we are celebrating the centuries-long oppression and persecution of members of minority faiths in our country, and that there's no reason to take pride in the memory of a failed regicide and mass-murderer, who the king had tortured and publicly hanged, drawn and quartered.

She did, however, let James and Minnie come with us. Her moral objections don't stand in the way of her children filling themselves with cheap baked potatoes. I made sure first that that rather unnerving young Scottish doctor wouldn't be coming with them. When he showed up on Hallowe'en for the Trick or Treating he hardly said a word, and when he did speak I found him completely incomprehensible. Such a broad Scottish accent, it's surprising the NHS employed him. I don't know how his patients get on with him.

Minnie got into trouble for hiding some rook-scarers in the big compost heap. She was under the impression that they were going to set fire to it. When she realised that all she had done was to get her fireworks all soggy, she tried to switch a bucket of Reception's wee for the water for the hot chocolate. She's going to have a fortnight's detentions for that. Mary won't be happy, she'll have to attend the course on "Managing Positive Behaviour" again.