The fireworks at Blackheath is an annual event for us. As I mentioned in this post two years ago, the November fireworks period of festivities in England is related to the early-17th-century plot by Guy Fawkes and his companions to blow up the Parliament. While it does not cease to amaze me that this particular occasion is the root of celebrations, I realize that Great Britain’s history lacks an event of an Independence Day stature and, therefore, the country has to find a cause to have fun where it can.
Anyway, the firework displays are plentiful around town in the weeks leading to the actual anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot on November 5th, and the fireworks at Blackheath on Saturday are one of the climactic highlights. We went to see them this year, just as we had in the previous years.
Becky, actually, watched them independently from us, having had left the house in the early afternoon for a girls’ day out. We, in turn, had friends over at our house for most of the day, and went to the fireworks together.
The display was magnificent, as always, but the weather did not cooperate, with a steady drizzle picking up midway through the festivities and not letting up until after we returned home. As we met up with Becky once the fireworks had ended, we foolishly agreed to escort one of her friends to where her father was waiting for her in his car. The fifteen-minute walk through the rain was mildly unpleasant, and then we lucked into getting on a bus full of less-than-agreeable teenagers, loud, obnoxious and intent on having fun at the expense of others. Girls, mostly, of the kind that you can only hope to ignore. Kimmy got upset with their behavior, I got upset in turn, and the evening was largely a wash. Only Becky had too good of a time during the day to let that affect her sunny disposition.
She has more plans for today, with our friends from Reading area coming over, and their elder boy with a friend going to the movies with Becky and a couple of her schoolmates. The parents and the younger kids will spend the time wining and dining chez nous, as the weather outside continues to leave a lot to be desired. Natasha has been rather pleased with the prospect of making two dinner parties in a row – the process in which I am always only too happy to participate from the point of view of consumption.