Tundra
April 18th, 2010, 10:36 AM
At about the same time of year Americans celebrate Halloween England celebrates November the fifth, when the plot by papist Guido Fawkes to blow up the houses of parliament was foiled. Some people say it's the modern replacement for the old celebrations of the Autumnal equinox when bonfires were lit to weaken the forces of darkness.
Anyway, there was a frost the other morning, it's coming up to bonfire time in East Sussex.
There are bonfire Societies all over the place in this part of the world, Rye, Hastings, Battle, and our village has one of the oldest.
Our preparations begin early in the day, the rabbit must go in the bathroom, the cat must not be fed so he hangs about and can be put in the bedroom and, after the big board has gone over the window, the owl will go into the Kitchen on her block. All eating has to be done before that, we take a kettle into the living room for when we come home.
The road through the village is shut from outside our house so any running around has to be over and done with early, then the cars are covered to stop falling ash from the bonfire and fireworks damaging the paintwork, the bonfire field is the one right behind our house.
The evening starts off with a fancy dress competition in the village hall. Most of the entrants are village children and someone usually has to be cajoled into entering the adult's classes. Although most of the bonfire society members come in fancy dress they see themselves as the organisers and not really eligible, the competition is judged by any newcomers to the village, this ensures impartiality and introduces them to our ways.
Next the procession forms up outside our house before marching through the village, on to the next village, about a mile and a half away, and back. Older residents tell me that in their youth it would parade around all three villages in the parish, but that was before motor cars became common and there was no need to shut off the road.
The bonfire societies arrange their fires on different weekends, so they do not clash, and they attend each other's bonfires. The fancy dress competition in the hall is mainly for village children who dress up as anything they want, but the individual societies dress up according to a theme, circus, highwaymen, pirates, seamen, 1920's etc. and each group arranges behind it's banner in the procession, with the host at the front. There are also usually a couple of floats pulled by tractors, Sparky the dragon from Rye is a regular, and Westfield jazz band. They come dressed in bits of uniform and rather battered white caps and play rather good trad. Jazz as they march.
If Hastings turn out in force the Hastings drummers come. Dressed all in black, black faced, wearing top hats with pheasant feathers and red ribbons, they hammer out a solid, primitive rhythm. You can also see them at the Jack in the Green festival on May Day in Hastings, but then they are in green.
Chestnut staves with one end wrapped in felt and dipped in a "special" mixture of paraffin and oils are lit and handed out to the procession. A tractor-trailer follows with a fresh supply so they can be renewed every so often. At the back of the procession come guys dragging metal tubs, rumbling along on metal castors, that the spent torches are thrown into.
When the procession arrives back in the village it stops outside the village shop, a huge basket of firecrackers is lit whilst the village name on two poles is set light to, then carried through the village to the field at the back of our house.
Here the procession marches down to the bonfire whilst the onlookers are let in to the top of the field, then the procession chant "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
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent
To blow up the King and the Parliament
Three score barrels of powder below
Poor old England to overthrow
By God's providence he was catched
With a dark lantern and burning match
Holloa boys, holloa boys
God save the Queen!
Then three mighty cheers and they all throw their torches on the fire to light it.
When the fire is going so that you can feel the heat fifty yards away the fireworks begin, that is something they take pride in doing properly in our village. The bonfire boys hold jumble sales and coffee mornings all year to raise money and we reckon to have a better display than most of the large towns around here.
When the fireworks are done they take a collection for local charities and most people go home, the fire is left to the village youth who sit round it into the night, chatting and letting off the occasional banger.
A wild anarchic sort of a night with strong echoes of a primitive past.
By Olly Buckle (http://www.associatedcontent.com/user/323686/olly_buckle.html)
Anyway, there was a frost the other morning, it's coming up to bonfire time in East Sussex.
There are bonfire Societies all over the place in this part of the world, Rye, Hastings, Battle, and our village has one of the oldest.
Our preparations begin early in the day, the rabbit must go in the bathroom, the cat must not be fed so he hangs about and can be put in the bedroom and, after the big board has gone over the window, the owl will go into the Kitchen on her block. All eating has to be done before that, we take a kettle into the living room for when we come home.
The road through the village is shut from outside our house so any running around has to be over and done with early, then the cars are covered to stop falling ash from the bonfire and fireworks damaging the paintwork, the bonfire field is the one right behind our house.
The evening starts off with a fancy dress competition in the village hall. Most of the entrants are village children and someone usually has to be cajoled into entering the adult's classes. Although most of the bonfire society members come in fancy dress they see themselves as the organisers and not really eligible, the competition is judged by any newcomers to the village, this ensures impartiality and introduces them to our ways.
Next the procession forms up outside our house before marching through the village, on to the next village, about a mile and a half away, and back. Older residents tell me that in their youth it would parade around all three villages in the parish, but that was before motor cars became common and there was no need to shut off the road.
The bonfire societies arrange their fires on different weekends, so they do not clash, and they attend each other's bonfires. The fancy dress competition in the hall is mainly for village children who dress up as anything they want, but the individual societies dress up according to a theme, circus, highwaymen, pirates, seamen, 1920's etc. and each group arranges behind it's banner in the procession, with the host at the front. There are also usually a couple of floats pulled by tractors, Sparky the dragon from Rye is a regular, and Westfield jazz band. They come dressed in bits of uniform and rather battered white caps and play rather good trad. Jazz as they march.
If Hastings turn out in force the Hastings drummers come. Dressed all in black, black faced, wearing top hats with pheasant feathers and red ribbons, they hammer out a solid, primitive rhythm. You can also see them at the Jack in the Green festival on May Day in Hastings, but then they are in green.
Chestnut staves with one end wrapped in felt and dipped in a "special" mixture of paraffin and oils are lit and handed out to the procession. A tractor-trailer follows with a fresh supply so they can be renewed every so often. At the back of the procession come guys dragging metal tubs, rumbling along on metal castors, that the spent torches are thrown into.
When the procession arrives back in the village it stops outside the village shop, a huge basket of firecrackers is lit whilst the village name on two poles is set light to, then carried through the village to the field at the back of our house.
Here the procession marches down to the bonfire whilst the onlookers are let in to the top of the field, then the procession chant "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
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent
To blow up the King and the Parliament
Three score barrels of powder below
Poor old England to overthrow
By God's providence he was catched
With a dark lantern and burning match
Holloa boys, holloa boys
God save the Queen!
Then three mighty cheers and they all throw their torches on the fire to light it.
When the fire is going so that you can feel the heat fifty yards away the fireworks begin, that is something they take pride in doing properly in our village. The bonfire boys hold jumble sales and coffee mornings all year to raise money and we reckon to have a better display than most of the large towns around here.
When the fireworks are done they take a collection for local charities and most people go home, the fire is left to the village youth who sit round it into the night, chatting and letting off the occasional banger.
A wild anarchic sort of a night with strong echoes of a primitive past.
By Olly Buckle (http://www.associatedcontent.com/user/323686/olly_buckle.html)