I love bonfire night. I love the whizzing and the banging of the fireworks, and the crackling of the logs on the massive bonfire. I love the fact that it smells of autumn, and the bonhomie of everyone all gathering round a big pile of smouldering twigs to celebrate the catching of a man trying to kill the king. It doesn’t seem to matter to people that it is stems from religion and this isn’t something that most people in the UK are enamoured with, because Guy Fawkes was a Catholic trying to oust a Protestant King, it just matters that we all go to the nearest field to watch a scarecrow being ignited. Fab.
My cats, on the other hand, do not. I never got to spend a bonfire night with my kittens as by that time they were firmly in ex-boyfriend lair, never to be returned, but two cats live at my Daddy’s house. Jake is a three legged ginger Tom who is partial to walking with a limp in his front paw when in the company of strangers. This is often amusing, but takes the biscuit when perfect strangers knock on our front door to tell us that they think our cat got hit by a car. He then recovers miraculously and pegs it through the door, straight to his bowl. He is nothing if not a show pony. He is named Jake after the rhyme about Jake the Peg (the character had an extra leg rather than one missing, but my sister has poetic licence) and my Dad affectionately refers to him as ‘Tripod’.
The other is the little ball of mischief. She is a tiny little cat who we have had since a kitten, and she resembles a little owl. She has really long fur and these little sticky up ears that twitch and flatten when she hears something so teamed with her big, beady eyes, she looks like a bird. It’s quite amusing. They live in relative harmony, Rosie teasing the old man and nipping at his ears, Jake permitting her to do so until he loses patience and hisses so that she curls up like a hedgehog and goes shooting off to hide in the sofa. That is, until bonfire night. The loud bangs and sharp whizzes are fairly disconcerting for the menagerie, and they both become very loving and needy, as if to say “Help me, human! I don’t like all this noise!” we dutifully shut them in the kitchen and put our warm clothes on, ready to see the bangs and sparkles in their full glory.
What is your favourite holiday?