Bonfire night is something most of us red-blooded Americans know nothing about, but it all started 400 years ago when a group of young hot-heads decided to blow up the British parliament and the King of England with it. They didn’t succeed, but one of their number was caught almost red-handed. While he lost his life in the process, Guy Fawkes achieved a form of immortality in Britain by being re-burned at the stake each November 5th for the past 400 years.
I vaguely knew about this, but it wasn’t until I agreed to host a meeting of local shepherds at my farm that I realized our sheep meeting would coincide with the 400th anniversary of the gunpowder plot. As one who’s always looking for a good excuse to drag out obscure ethnic festivals from forgotten tribal groups in odd corners of the world, I invited the local Brits to come join us and instruct us in their quaint native rituals (it’s amazing how many there are of them tucked away in these hills and hollers).
Anyway, the weather was spectacular (almost too warm). Fueled by a keg of my favorite English beer (Boddingtons), Woodpecker Cider and a most excellent shepherd’s pie made from my own Touchstone Farm Lamb and expertly prepared by Todd & Liz from Hunt Country Caterers, we all had a good time watching the Guy burn and talking about sheep and listening to ex-pat stories of bonfire nights gone by: “Aaah! You Yanks have it all too soft…. there’s supposed to be a freezing cold drizzle, a few burnt baked potatoes, and pile of smoldering rubbish….”
The crowd stayed to the wee hours and despite considerable imbibing, I’m still finishing off the keg of cider (the Boddington’s is long gone), so stop by to have a pint.
Click on the photos to enlarge
