Bahrni's Website

Bonfire Night
Light fuse paper and run like hell
Friday 5th November 2004

I was recently writing about how roasts weren't necessarily a quintessentially kiwi item, and the same would really seem to be the case with the 5th of November, generally otherwise known to the English-speaking and tea-drinking parts of the world as Bonfire or Guy Fawkes' Night.

In Britain, every 5th of November is celebrated as the anniversary of a terrorist plot to destory British government, which is really quite twisted if you stop to think about it. Mind you, we burn (in effigy) the man behind the attack (Guy Fawkes) so maybe it's really a celebration of justice. Albeit a rather vicious and street mob kind of justice but given that Guy Fawkes and the majority of his fellow conspirators wound up getting hung, drawn and quartered, perhaps burning is pretty tame by comparison.

The full story is that 400 years ago, Robert Catesby and a handful of other disgruntled English Catholics had hoped to get better treatment under James I after he took the throne following the death of Elizabeth I, especially as James' mother had been Catholic. This turned out not to be the case, and Robert and his friends decided that the only way to change the Powers That Be was to obliterate them. To this end 36 barrels of gunpowder were hidden in the cellars beneath the House of Lords ready for the opening of the new Parliamentary session and the presence of the King, all of parliament and possibly the Prince of Wales.

The official word is that, as the deadline for the detonation came closer, some of the conspirators became uncomfortable about the potential loss of innocent human lives and that a letter was even sent to Lord Monteagle that warned he should give work a miss that day, although doubts have been expressed about the authenticity of the letter. Some have even suggested that the King and Parliament were aware of the plot (after all, sneaking 36 barrels into a building unnoticed even in 1605 seems a fraction improbable) and were happy for it to "nearly" take place so that their anti-Catholic retribution could be carried out without question. Mind you it's hard to imagine a government pulling a stunt like that simply to justify retaliation on it's enemies, isn't it?

Either way, the only member of the plotters who was caught in the cellars with the gunpowder (sounds like Cluedo, doesn't it?) was the famous Guy Fawkes, who was imprisoned, tortured and executed, although shortly afterwards the rest of the group were either caught or gave themselves up.

And to celebrate this triumph of justice, British people ever since have stood in the cold November sleet and watch a damp bonfire smoulder whilst waving sparklers and occassionally horrifically burning one another.

But that's Britain. Why are they doing it in New Zealand? A quick consultation of Australians I know (and live with) reveals that Aussie's don't join in this fiery fun, although apparently they're not allowed to play with fireworks by their government, so they may be sulking.

I can only assume (lacking any evidence) that the answer is the sheer number of ex-Britons that seem to make up a large proportion of New Zealand society. Certainly I've run into any number of people who were either born in the UK or whose parents were. Plus, I'd assume that any excuse is good for setting things on fire and blowing them up.

Speaking of blowing things up, fireworks at least, the Wellington council certainly didn't seem to skimp on the budget for the 2004 Bonfire Night display. Jo and I watched the proceedings sitting on a wall in Oriental Bay as, with an accidental nod to the evening's nation of origin, it started to drizzle. A helicopter flew over the bay dropping bright red fire as barges loaded with blazing colour erupted beneath it. By putting the fireworks in the bay, a brilliant view was given to the entire of Wellington, as well as ensuring nobody got too close to the launches. I did wonder if there were any people actually on the boats, but given the technicolour inferno emanating from each barge, I'd assumed that the fireworks must have been detonated remotely. Certainly a bloke with a lighter running up and down a barge would have risked extreme incineration.

I managed to get a number of fireworks photos that I was very happy with, mostly by luck rather than judgement, especially with the lengthy open-shutter photos that can be taken with the manual settings on my digital camera. It took a bit of trial and error to get a length of exposure that lead to bright and clear photos without resulting in just an expanding coloured blur, but with Jo's tripod and some patience, a couple came out really well. Certainly better than Jo's came out, largely as I'd stolen her tripod.