Plot Night

November reflections

Growing up, Plot Night, or Bonfire Night as it is also known, was a highlight of the year. Bonfires were lit in back gardens, in streets, in fields or on waste ground at the end of streets. Neighbours teamed up to make it a night to remember. Children stayed up late. And it all happened on the precise date – 5^th November itself.

Our cul de sac had ten houses and a gang of children who spent weeks progging, as we called the collecting of wood for the bonfire – an activity that started in the summer holidays so that our fire could be the biggest and best in the village, a title hotly contested by many and one which can still provoke an argument with Kip, my oldest friend, who claimed the title for the fire he and his brother built.

The families each brought fireworks, the mothers agreed who would do the pea soup, the Parkin, the Plot Toffee, and the potatoes wrapped in foil for the fire. The fathers looked after the fire itself, positioned the guy, made sure the flames took hold, and policed our over enthusiasm with rip-raps and other bangers.

There were no big displays in those days but lots of small-scale neighbourhood community events, part of the glue which kept us together, and which today’s major events haven’t really replaced, street led socialisation being now more focussed on Halloween. We were hardly aware of Halloween or ‘trick or treat’ although 4^thNovember was traditionally designated Mischief Night which was essentially the trick without the treat – an evening when gates would disappear, dustbin lids would be tied to doorknobs, and bangers lit behind the unsuspecting.

Any bad feeling this caused, and discipline administered, was all forgotten in the excitement of the big day. And there was more - the quiet of the next morning  saw investigations of how long the fire would last, and in the days which followed we collected, and counted, spent rockets from around the neighbourhood. Good times. Bonding times.

I was reminded of this last year when we were in Pembrokeshire on November 5^th and saw a bonfire built at a rapid rate by the locals who waited for the tide to recede, produced trailer loads of wood towed by tractors and built the fire  late in the afternoon, lit it in the evening, and cleared up what the high tide had left the next morning. A communal effort, with the sea providing a backdrop I hadn’t experienced before.

poking the embers
last night’s fire
birdsong