Guy Fawkes’ Day. Gunpowder, treason and plot and all that. The day we dread most in the yearly calendar due to living in a house with a thatched roof. Any carelessly pointed rocket could end up on the roof with its contents still smouldering, and hey presto, a lovely house would go up in flames. This happened last , in this house, in the early Fifties, when it had just been re-thatched and there was a pile of unused straw close to the house, which the children played in and for some unknown reason, decided to set fire to it. Flames from this bonfire quickly caught the new straw thatch above and the roof was soon resembled a flamethrower. Fortunately, with wind going through the house the roof burned off very quickly and did minimal damage inside to the ancient oak structure. Having said that I would not wish to repeat this incident. On most Guy Fawkes’ night’s in Day. in the past,’ my lovely’ and I would be alert to local bonfires and be prepared, with the water hose in case we should see a passing rocket land on the roof. Fortunately, individual bonfires on the whole seem to have died out (if you’ll excuse the pun) and a community bonfire with much more exciting fireworks is usually laid on, in ourÂ village on the Jubilee field and an even more magnificent display is put on in our adjacent village, in Newport.
The proposed Greek referenda on whether or not Greece should leave the Eurozone is now definitely off and we await a possible vote of confidence in the Prime Minister. The G 20 finance ministers were supposed to have a cut and dried deal on the table by the date of ther meeting, which finished yesterday. In doublespeak, the French Prime Minister, said that they had achieved their objective in agreeing the deal but there was a lot of detail to be sorted out. As the devil is in the detail. clearly no deal has been done, yet! Why can’t politicians, he straightforward and honest and say it as it is, instead of obfuscating issues by doublespeak?
The good Dr. rose early this morning and went off to shop in Saffron Walden. He just loves shop pingÂ but Â heaven knows what he wanted to buy that he could not equally buy ,in Copperberg, his local town in Sweden but there you are, if you are a shopaholic then I suppose that is less offensive than beating up old ladies or getting up to some other mischeif!
Click here to see a little video clip which you might find amusing. I call it The Golf Girl