First pang of regret about moving to the US came today: no Guy Fawkes Night!
No fireworks, no bonfires, no burning effigies of Guy Fawkes, no annual funfair, no toffee apples. No ridiculous traditional rhymes:
Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of* no reason
Why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Genuinely, Guy Fawkes Night is one of my favourite nights of the year, and I’m going to miss it.
But I’ll probably be having sex instead, so whatever.
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