November

[Sweder]

There's just nothing quite like Bonfire in Lewes.
Dark, twisted, chaotic, loud, frightening, overwhelming, an orgy of pyromania, alcoholism and pagan indulgence . . . all these and so many more. I'll write it up in technicolour some time; for now here's a couple of snapshots from last night to give you flavour of the gathering hoards.

After all that revelry this morning's plod was a gentle one. The firesmoke from last night had drifted out of the town to lurk in the surrounding hills, regrouping with it's foggy cousins ready to gatecrash the dawn. Now in the early half-light it rolled back towards the streets, a monolithic flypast to end Lewes Bonfire for another year. The wall of smoke and fog moved like a living, breathing entity, rolling across the downland, devouring trees, gates, fences, sheep . . . runners and dogs.

I snapped a couple of shots (to be posted later) but these rarely do justice. It's a special time of year in these parts, a time I welcome like a long-parted friend. A time of soft, damp earth, of dead leaves, barren shrubs and cackling rooks wheeling and tumbling on the edges of the misty view.

[SIZE="1"][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][COLOR="Purple"]Pictures
1)High street before the off
2)Darling and Brown as Laurel and Hardy. The effigy is packed with fireworks and explosives, to be set off at one of the firesites after the parade
3)A view up School Hill - plenty of visitors come to town
4)Rememberance at the memorial in the heart of the town; a moving moment as those lost to the tragedy war are remembered before all hell breaks lose for the next few hours . . .[/COLOR][/COLOR][/SIZE]