Over here, in England, it is Guy Fawkes night, or Bonfire night. Circa 1604, he was involved in a plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament which failed, and he is celebrated ever since. I am sat in front of my fire gazing out of the window into our village, and the reflections of my own fire upon the pane are mixing with those from outside. People are walking past in warm clothes and scarves, their faces flickering in the firelight , distracted by an occasional whoosh and loud bang, then coloured light dissipates in the black sky. Remember, remember, the fifth of November, Gunpowder, Treason and Plot.