Bonfire Night

It's weird when you don't really feel permanent in a place, and yet you've been there long enough to do annual things twice. Like Bonfire Night - aka the 5th of November - aka Guy Fawkes night. Remember?

We went down to see the fireworks last night, and it was chilly. Correction: it was mildly cool. We dressed appropriately and weren't cold at all, therefore, it can't have been very chilly. Also: we rode our bikes there, so clearly it's not cold here at all.

I'm not sure what part Elizabeth liked best:

(a) Her new snowpants, which she has renamed "Swishy Pants"

(2) watching the fireworks

or (d)the Chocolate Fudge Sundae we got at the pub afterwards

I have two "best parts of the night":

(I) that moment of relief when you find your keys after a panicked bike ride back to where you had locked up - only because your key ring is from your University Graduation and you feel a bit sentimental about things like that...

or (ii) These girls with matching platinum blonde hair who took duck-face, pouty lipped
pictures of themselves for the 45 minutes we were at the pub.

It's a tough call.