What, aren’t you having a bonfire tonight?? My good friend who lives down the street spent several years in England, her husband being stationed there, so she is utterly Anglicized. Often as not, she’ll shout, “OI!” to her sons instead of the more American “HEY!” I told her we need to have a bonfire tonight, in honor of Guy Fawkes Night, but alas, she’s in nursing school and had to go to class tonight.
Everyone ruins my fun.
Who is Guy Fawkes?? He was one of the infamous conspirators who tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament on this night in 1605. The thought was that the Catholic conspirators would kill most of the Protestant members of Parliament, as well as King James I, himself a Protestant. But the plot was discovered and the plotters executed.
Excellent reason for a bonfire, no? We used to have neighborhood fires before all my friends moved away, so any reason to light up a chiminea is a good one — though we’re technically not allowed to have them here in housing. ME was only a few weeks old when she attended her first neighborhood fire, where the children raced around in the dark till they collapsed like puppies in exhaustion, and the adults drank homemade hot chocolate spiked with peppermint schnapps. Yum.
But now everyone is gone, except my Anglophile friend, but she’s so busy with school that I never see her.
I have a new friend now! Our dear Poolagirl saw how enthralled I was with her Nigel, and she graciously offered that I take him home with me. How could I refuse?
Getting an alien through security was quite fun. I was worried he would cause problems, as his body is constructed from a metal frame, but the TSA agents thought he was the coolest thing since sliced bread. All the agents crowded around once he emerged from the X-ray machine and asked about him. Nigel rode in my backpack all the way to the gate, with his head sticking out so he could see. Apparently I nearly whacked his head on the bulkhead as I boarded the plane, causing the flight attendants to gasp in horror. They thought he was a real baby!
I had spoken with a few of my fellow travelers during my layover in Chicago, and they were so captivated by my handsome friend that they wanted to know his name and where he was from. And once I arrived in Rhode Island, they asked how he had enjoyed the flight, and whether he thought he’d like his new home.
They did get his name wrong, though. They thought it was Nathan. He doesn’t even look like a Nathan! Nigel suits him perfectly.
Apparently the first night I was home from San Diego, Grace had to get up in the middle of the night to visit the little girls’ room, and she saw Nigel in the light of the hall lamp resting on our little end table. She said he freaked her out, and she wouldn’t go anywhere near him when they were first introduced.
I guess he would be freaky to encounter in the middle of the night.
She quickly got over her fear of him.
Now they’re the best of friends!
But then Shippie, Poolie’s niece, and the one who had given Nigel to Poolie to begin with, noticed that he was now residing in Rhode Island. This morning I got an email from Shippie, asking me to prove that Nigel is hale and healthy, and that he’s having a good time here with me and my girls. She wanted a photo of him with a current newspaper as proof.
Here he’s reading yesterday’s paper, as our newspaper is delivered in the afternoon. There are some weighty things in the news here in the tiniest state in the Union. Yes, folks, the world’s oldest profession is legal here, if it takes place indoors. At least it was until Tuesday. Apparently our Governor has signed a law that makes it a misdemeanor, punishable by prison terms of up to six months for a first-time offense, to up to a year for repeat offenders.
Fortunately I don’t think it will affect Nigel in any way. He doesn’t really seem to be interested in that sort of thing, mainly because there isn’t a female of his species on the planet.