Guy Fawkes night is a huge deal here, young Londoners have been blowing off unnecessary body parts for weeks now, and the streets are full of smoke and the constant wail of ambulances and police sirens. I made mulled wine and go ridiculously over-excited on the actual day, but two of my housemates got sick so we didn't make it to any of the massive bonfires around town where they actually burn lifesized effigies of the pope. One day...Instead we bought about six kilos of explosives from our nearest supermarket and blew massive holes in the lawn of the local childrens playground. It was rad, the whole skyline of London was erupting and the parks were full of cheering drunken people who were too cheap to buy their own fireworks but sure got a kick out of ours. This is my housemate Tom about to light one of the little baby rockets we got. These were a bit pathetic, but we also had ones the size of four bricks which could have blown up a car. I can't wait til next year.
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