Bonfire Night in England, is one of the things I really miss all those toffee apples, sparklers, parkin and treacle toffee! I can clearly remember standing on a heap of dirt which had been excavated for the soon to be built new housing estate. This was in the field behind my house when I was around 11 years old. Looking down on the huge bonfire my friends and I had spent the last month building, holding my sparkler in my hand, smelling that distinct firework smell, the sky all around filled with rockets. Pinwheels trying their best to complete a circle on their hurriedly erected posts, my father holding his hand over his eyes as he tried to keep the wheels turning. It’s a strange English Tradition, heathens that we are, we burn the figure of a man, the guy, made up of old clothes and stuffed with dry leaves and place him on the top of the fire. Guy Fawkes tried to burn down the Houses of Parliament buy putting gun powder filled kegs in the tunnels beneath the building. But his plot was foiled and he was caught. So for some unexplained reason, all over the UK on the 5th of November every year, there are hundreds and hundreds of bonfires in peoples gardens, fields and huge organized events with fireworks to rival the fourth of July. The autumn weather makes it feel good to stand in front of a huge fire, your back getting cold, your face burning, then turning around to warm your back, back and forth like a sausage browning on the grill. As the fires die down, the foil wrapped potatoes that were thrown into the fire are raked out, filled with butter, these are probably the best potatoes I have ever tasted. Finally when its all over and all that is left is the burning embers its time for bed, full and content hair smelling of smoke, muddy wellingtons and memories that will last a lifetime.