Post by carousal on Nov 7, 2009 8:32:15 GMT -5
In the United Kingdom on November 5th, celebrations take place in towns and villages across the country in the form of both private and civic events. They involve fireworks displays and the building of bonfires on which traditionally "guys" are burnt, These "guys" are traditionally effigies of Guy Fawkes, the most famous of the Gunpowder Plot conspirators.
Though we celebrated Guy Fawlkes night with fireworks and a bonfire we had never had a Guy to burn. I decided now that the two youngest girls (Baby Sarah had not joined the female army at this time) had reached an age where we could go for the ‘full Monty’.
In the safe haven of my little workshop, where all females are banned, I started to make a guy. I admit that as the dummy progressed I got a bit carried away with the project. The final result was that Guy was fully dressed in some of my old clothes with a Papier Mache head and features.
The evening before Guy Fawlkes night I proudly produced my masterpiece. The girls were ecstatic.
“Wow daddy, you are clever”
“Can we play with him?”
I explained that he was not for playing with; he was destined to be burnt on the bonfire the following night.
Silence.
“You can’t do that Daddy, can he Mandy?” said Melanie, tears starting to well in her eyes
“No, that’s really horrid” answered six year old Mandy firmly.
I tried to explain that it was a tradition that went back hundreds of years and that it was only a dummy. I would have had a better chance of saving the Titanic.
Mandy and Melanie took Guy by the arm and marched him inside.
“Come on Mr Guy” said Mandy “We’ll save you” was the parting shot.
Defeated I lit a cigarette in consolation. Females, what can you do with them?
When I went in I found that Mr Guy was seated on the settee between the two girls, I swear the damn thing had a smug look on its face.
We sat in silence until Christine arrived from a visit to friends.
“And what’s all this?” she asked.
They babbled out the story of poor Mr Guy and the horrible Daddy.
“I see” she glanced at the clock “Time for you’re video I think, then bath and bed”
She slipped a Walt Disney classic into the recorder and we settled down to watch.
Later Mandy lingered by the doorway.
“You won’t let Daddy burn Mr Guy will you Mummy?”
“Don’t be silly, Daddy’s not going to burn him, are you Daddy?”
I answered with a sulky grunt.
The touchy subject of Mr Guy was not discussed for the rest of the evening. Around eleven Christine put down her book, stretched and smiled.
“Well I’m for bed, are you coming or do you want to stay and chat with your new friend?”
I chased her up the stairs.
And Mr Guy? Yes, he’s still with us. But one day friend, one day.
Mr Guy
Though we celebrated Guy Fawlkes night with fireworks and a bonfire we had never had a Guy to burn. I decided now that the two youngest girls (Baby Sarah had not joined the female army at this time) had reached an age where we could go for the ‘full Monty’.
In the safe haven of my little workshop, where all females are banned, I started to make a guy. I admit that as the dummy progressed I got a bit carried away with the project. The final result was that Guy was fully dressed in some of my old clothes with a Papier Mache head and features.
The evening before Guy Fawlkes night I proudly produced my masterpiece. The girls were ecstatic.
“Wow daddy, you are clever”
“Can we play with him?”
I explained that he was not for playing with; he was destined to be burnt on the bonfire the following night.
Silence.
“You can’t do that Daddy, can he Mandy?” said Melanie, tears starting to well in her eyes
“No, that’s really horrid” answered six year old Mandy firmly.
I tried to explain that it was a tradition that went back hundreds of years and that it was only a dummy. I would have had a better chance of saving the Titanic.
Mandy and Melanie took Guy by the arm and marched him inside.
“Come on Mr Guy” said Mandy “We’ll save you” was the parting shot.
Defeated I lit a cigarette in consolation. Females, what can you do with them?
When I went in I found that Mr Guy was seated on the settee between the two girls, I swear the damn thing had a smug look on its face.
We sat in silence until Christine arrived from a visit to friends.
“And what’s all this?” she asked.
They babbled out the story of poor Mr Guy and the horrible Daddy.
“I see” she glanced at the clock “Time for you’re video I think, then bath and bed”
She slipped a Walt Disney classic into the recorder and we settled down to watch.
Later Mandy lingered by the doorway.
“You won’t let Daddy burn Mr Guy will you Mummy?”
“Don’t be silly, Daddy’s not going to burn him, are you Daddy?”
I answered with a sulky grunt.
The touchy subject of Mr Guy was not discussed for the rest of the evening. Around eleven Christine put down her book, stretched and smiled.
“Well I’m for bed, are you coming or do you want to stay and chat with your new friend?”
I chased her up the stairs.
And Mr Guy? Yes, he’s still with us. But one day friend, one day.
! 
Our children have new special traditions. Good write. H x