Remember, remember....to be careful what you wish for!

Remember, remember, the fifth of November

Gunpowder, treason and plot

I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason

should ever be forgot...........

So goes the old rhyme I recall chanting as a very small child, sparkler in gloved hand, face hot and red from the bonfire we had spent weeks constructing from the fallen autumn leaves and seasonal prunings (plus I suspect a lot of what would now be sent to the recycling bin!) to be lit, complete with grotesque Guy Fawkes effigy atop, and admired in it's blazing glory....

After the last rocket had screamed skyward from it's milk bottle launching pad and an assortment of expired 'jumping jacks' 'fizzing fountains' and 'catherine wheels' lay damply in the bare flowerbeds, we would head for the house, ravenous from the cold, to consume vast quantities of crunchy jacket potatoes piled high with butter and cheese, steaming soup, and often a 'Bonfire' cake baked specially......

Occasionally, thoughts of those childhood nights filled with hundreds of years of tradition crept into my mind...usually as I flicked on the airconditioning and stood over the vent, skirt held up and hoping that a 'southerly' would blow in and give some relief from the stifling heat....

Sometimes those thoughts would prompt a suggestion to RR (my lovely aussie bloke) that 'maybe it would be nice to get away from the summer heat in Sydney and spend Christmas in the English countryside for a change'?

The rewards were not just nostalgic - it meant I got to spend some time with my 'English' children who chose to stay in 'the green and pleasant land' (I quote..!!!!)

Well, here we are some eighteen months later, happily (mostly!) ensconced in said G & PL and I find I have created a much larger 'monster' than any of those plastic face masked Guy Fawkes I lovingly crafted and gleefully watched being burned alive every 5th November......

The L.A.B has embraced life in the English countryside with a gusto usually only seen in reformed smokers......there's nothing I can think of that he doesn't like! From the first emerging yellow daffodil in Spring to the annoying dripping of melting snow as it slowly slides from the glass roof in the sun room.....he has even acquired an all weather waxed jacket and green wellies! We don't have a black labrador or a Range Rover yet...but you never know....

Meanwhile, I constantly search my 'Sydney' wardrobe for something suitable to wear when he suggests a 'walk in the lovely brisk air' to the pub (another of those things I used to think about whilst standing over the vent) and am stumped....A scramble in the shoe cupboard reveals a pair of hopelessly inadequate black leather shoes, more suited to a civilised lunch in the botanic gardens of the Opera House than a trek along a shingled canal path......but they will have to suffice as they are the only pair with a heel height less than 3"....

So....the moral of my story today is - be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.....or, be very careful when skulking in cellars laying sticks of gunpowder.........s