November the 5th 1605

November the 5th in this part of the world usually means World War Three breaks out overhead.  For several days now some have been practising their part in this conflagration.  Nightly, explosions not required for sleep purposes have been heard all around.  Some from the better houses appear keen to do this annually, indeed, they even do this for less important events such as birthdays, holidays and upsetting the neighbours day also.  Tonight I expect an onslaught from several directions as various organised parties attempt to break the sound barrier.  There is hope that being midweek this would lessen, however, those inserting cheap but overpriced rockets into empty milk bottles before standing well back will pretend this is the weekend and let go on all sides.

Maybe it's time to ban fireworks from general sale.

The reason for the needless mayhem, harmful to dogs and cats everywhere, is a commemoration of the action of one Guido Fawkes, on the night of November the 5th 1605.  

Guido was born Guy Fawkes in York in 1570, a time of change in England.  Since Henry VIII had fallen out with Rome England had become protestant, some thing which upset the pope and English Catholics greatly.  Elizabeth I had allowed protestant superiority to some extent, though she herself liked the fancy Catholic services and music.  Under King James VI & I Catholics priests were forced out of the country and attendance at Church became mandatory.  Failing to attend could therefore be seen as treasonable.

With this as a background Guys protestant father died when he was 8 years old and his mother married again to a recusant catholic.  Recusants, as you know, were Catholics who refused to attend the Church of England services.  Guy converted to Catholic himself and went to Europe to fight for Spain against the reformation in the Low Countries.  Clearly an able soldier and once James was established on the throne Guy attempted to disestablish him.   Travelling to Spain, who had been at war with England, note Scotland took no part in this foreign war, Scotland was going through a popular reformation at the time, Guy failed to get support from Spain who signed a peace treaty with James.

This upset the Catholic hierarchy.

So, Guy, now called Guido, an Italicised version of his name he took as he considered it gave him a touch of class, met one Robert Catesby, and he had already partook of a failed plot in 1601.  At the 'Dog and Duck' near the Strand in London, a plotters gathering took place.  Catesby, Fawkes, Thomas Winter, John Wright and Thomas Percy gathered to prepare a coup.  Most were members of the Catholic gentry, people of wealth and influence, now suffering some degree of injury due to their Catholic faith.  The majority of such did not participate in rebellion, possibly aware of the cost, and hoping some some toleration in due course.  Others quietly gave support.  

Altogether 13 men joined in a plan to remove King James the VI & I, the Queen, the protestant Lords, nobles and MPs gathered for the opening of Parliament in the House of Lords.  

Parliament was completely different in those days.  The buildings were an assortment of rooms, storehouse and taverns, and passages, making it easy to store barrels under the room used for by the Lords.  36 barrels of gunpowder, available after the end of the Spanish war, were stored by an unknown workman called John Johnson, a servant of Percy's.  He was of course Guido Fawkes.

One Lord Monteagle, a former Catholic, received a letter with a strong injunction to make excuses to avoid the opening as 'For God and man has concurred to punish the wickedness of this time...they shall receive a terrible blow this parliament yet they shall not see who hurts them.'  Monteagle, though sympathetic to Catholics, was no fool.  He took the letter to the Earl of Salisbury, James man.  

The King ordered a search made of the undercroft where indeed they came across Fawkes.  However, while noticing the firewood stored there they did not see the barrels under the wood.  The King ordered a new search the next night, the 5th, and a proper search discovered both the barrels and the fuses on Guido Fawkes.  

A warrant was issued for Percy's arrest, and torture eventually revealed the names of other plotters.  Percy and Catesby made for the Midlands where they hoped to rouse a rebellion.  This failed and they made a last stand at Holbeach House, where both were wounded, dying later from their injuries.  The others were soon arrested and tried.

It is no surprise that all were found guilty and sentenced to be hung, drawn and quartered.    

Luckily, the neck broke on the weakened body of Fawkes so he missed the delight of enduring the rest of this very English punishment.  He was nevertheless dismembered and spread about the kingdom.

Celebrations began in London after the event, and during January 1606 a Law was passed for church services to offer public thanks for the 5th of November, attendance was mandatory. 

Interestingly, Fawkes was not mentioned much in early sermons or literature.  This was always an attack on the pope and popery.  It appears that Fawkes became popular during the 1800s when some may have seen him as a kind of folk hero.  Today, most see him as just a guy, burnt on a local bonfire, where potatoes are roasted, fireworks entertain the children, dogs and cats terrified, and houses are burnt down by careless people.  No one cares about popery, most do not know the real story, or it is a vague tale in the back of the mind.  And there is not one person the land who ever desires to blow up parliament today, no, not one...

November Brooding

This is true!

In some ways I am still working through May/June time, and here we are in November.

Life is like this.

Whereas once, all was young and free, life was to be enjoyed, the future was an adventure out there waiting to be grasped, now it is just remembering if the dinner has been taken out of the freezer.

The adventure has slipped a bit, much has been tried and failed to please, and reality took away what was left.  There is no doubt that without the Love Jesus has offered me I would be a right miserable cynic.  Instead, today I am quite a content cynic, but not always a quiet one.

If grace abounds my future looks good, though whether this includes the walk to Sainsburys in the morning is as yet unclear.  With November winter is arriving.  The climate change warmth is dispelling and I had to wipe the condensation off the windows this morning.  I suspect the heating came on at one point during the night.  At least I am cared for, I have no worries re this winter, and the gas and electric people are proffering new deals, so something is up there.  Others however, are struggling already.  I suspect no MP is struggling to pay bills.

It's November!

 

Cold, Cheerless, November

Deep joy and happiness were not in abundance as I ambled across the park.  Slight joy was to be found in obtaining, at £2 a time, some Christmas cards to complete, I hope, this years lot.  There can be no doubt when I fix them up someone will be forgotten, a sister or cousin or someone you never meet.  That sort of person.
There was a kind of thrill watching Portugal play football last night, not a thrill from the football, their 6- 0 win was understandable, but watching the Portuguese crowd wrapped in heavy overcoats, hiding from the chilly rain that is sweeping across Iberia.  No open necked shirts, dark glasses and t-shirts on show.  Anoraks and expensive rain wear the order of the night.   Somehow this surprised me.
The thrill today continued when I hoovered the floor with the broken Tesco hoover, thus annoying the man downstairs who was sleeping after a heavy night shift.  I would apologise but that would mean waking him up again and he might not like that.   
The Polling card arrived today.  This tells me where to vote, when to vote but not who to vote for.  This may be difficult this year.  Our man always wins, the Tory sheep will vote for a monkey in a suit if it wore a blue rosette, but the 18,422 majority might be in some danger.  However I note there are three independents one a one time councillor, and two nobody's with only the deposit to lose.  This means the Labour and Lib-Dem will be fighting to come second.  If only one withdrew and supported the other, we might lose this man! 
The man had a 3000 increase on his majority as the UKIP folks ran off and joined the Tories, what will they do this time, the Brexit man has had to stand down!  Thanks Farage.  Looks like the Labour man has the best chance, the others too far behind, and the ex-councillor might take votes from the Tory boy but I doubt that will mean much.  It all depends in this 'Daily Express' 'Leave' area what the people wish for.  I hope the 'remainers' turn out...

November 30th

Each St Andrews Day the sky clears and high above travellers heading from Europe to far of lands such as Canada, USA or Luton Airport helpfully form a Scots Saltire Flag in the sky above us all.   It is a gift from above we ought all to be grateful for.
There is a growing movement that suggests that this day ought to become a national holiday in Scotland, I am sure all will be glad about this bar the Banks which work to London time of course.  They can work to London time if they wish but as the Bank of England keeps indicating the Scots Banks are not being run properly I can see their point of view.   A far cry from the days the Banks in Scotland were trusted and even then the one time chairman of the Bank of Scotland, long before the corruption of recent days, was famed for saying "Don't listen to the sound of another drum, just take the cash!"
The First Minister of Scotland, Nicola Sturgeon has been contacting foreign powers with the intention of having Scotland remain in the EU rather than run into poverty with England and has recently been rewarded with support from the Republic of Ireland.  I am sure some of her supporters back in her hometown of Irvine, Ayrshire, would be less happy about this than most of us.  Supportive words have been offered from other states but there again Nicola you must never trust a politician!
My eatables tonight will represent the Scots diet of today - Moussaka, a Greek dish obtained through the helpfulness of Tesco who reduced its price because of the sell by date.  Scots of course have always been happy to contact Europe, some have even lived there and refer always to the friendly nature of the natives whenever they mention that they "Are NOT English!"  Historically Scots have traded with northern European states since this land was occupied and there is no reason for this to change.  We have much in common with them, and here I do not refer to a liking for too much beer, but so many things in Scandinavia and Scotland ring true.  Holland and Northern Belgium also as well as Germany have much in common with Scotland and long may this remain true.  I know these places well as I flew over them once, in the dark, and once with cloud cover!  At least I have eaten their cheese and drank their beer, and Belgian beers strength must be noted before consuming by the way!
The English on the other hand are divided re Europe.  In the south they consider the Continent to be isolated if there is fog in the channel, in the northern parts they can often be similar to Scots in their approach.  It is the 'Little Englander' in the south who led to the Brexit decision, his papers spurring those up north to support him by lying in his teeth daily about immigrants.  Interesting to find any poll that asks Brexit voters whether they enjoy a Curry takeaway or not?
Scotland must have strong ties with Germany, Netherlands, Belgium and Scandinavia and we must not let English navel gazing take that from us. 

A pot boiler!  Or at least a boiler going to pot!  Today it runs smoothly, switching on at the right times, heating the radiators and even the water if I wished to make use of it.  Today it runs well but when I required it early yesterday morning it was a different story!
I came through into the east wing and found all the little red lights shining brightly as they ought.  So confident in their heat I turned on the tap at the bath and proceeded about my business.  Later I plunged my hand into said bathwater to check it was not too hot and instead it was freezing cold!  The brute had switched off!  I fiddled with the thermostat and waited, and waited and waited!  The little red lights would not light.  No matter what I did this brute would not switch on.  One red light appeared for a while, joined by another but seconds later they were gone. 
My entreaties, not particularly considerate ones as I was in a hurry to get ready to leave, did not work.  Speaking forcefully to it in a full and frank manner made no difference so I added a kettle  or two of hot water to the tepid bath which remained tepid as I made use of it.  I was pleased I can tell you, I was so pleased....
Shivering I took my skinny seven stone body through to the kitchen and made an unhealthy breakfast, I ought to have made porridge but I was afraid the microwave might blow up.  So naturally as I sat there, hair combed, shaved, almost dressed and checking the time before the off the blessed boiler sprang into life!  All the little red lights came on one after another! One, two, three, four, five...six, all of them smugly pumping hot water around a soon to be empty dwelling.  
Since then the boiler has worked perfectly and obeyed each and every command.  When I next attempt to bathe my physique, on Sunday next as usual, I suspect funny boy will play up again.

   

Trapped...