Monday: I’m not going to be an
election judge after all. I woke up sick
this morning, coughing and wheezing and blowing. I hope it isn’t flu. I had my super-strength flu shot, so this is
probably just a bad cold. A really bad cold. Right? I was
looking forward to being a part of this historic election, but I don’t think I
should reward Seventh Precinct voters with a cold or worse just for doing their
patriotic duty. So I’ll stay home,
drinking herbal tea, snuggling with our cat and watching the returns between
naps.
Today is Guy Fawkes
Day, celebrated in England. Guy Fawkes was a lead actor in a group of
Roman Catholic collaborators who allegedly, in 1605, packed the basement of
Parliament in London
with barrels of gunpowder with the intent of slaughtering King James I and
many elected representatives. But the plot
was thwarted literally as the match was about to be lit. After undergoing severe torture to make him
confess, Guy and three others and others were hanged, drawn and quartered –
well, Guy fell or jumped off the high scaffold and broke his neck before the
worst could happen to him. Ever since
the urchins of England
make a rough effigy of “the guy” and drag him around in a wagon in the weeks
before the day, reciting a rhyme and begging for pennies to buy fireworks. “Remember, remember the Fifth of November/
Gunpowder, treason and plot./ I see no reason why gunpowder treason/ Ever
should be forgot.” They build a bonfire
for The Guy on that historic evening and set off fireworks while he burns.
However, when I was over
there in the late sixties I read an article in a Sunday supplement which threw
some cold water on the historic account, saying it wasn’t an anti royal plot,
but an anti-Catholic plot. The most
telling element in the article noted that there was allegedly an enormous
amount of gunpowder in that undercroft, barrels of it. Since the explosion never happened, where did
the gunpowder go? There is no record in
the Tower of London (the official government storage
place for gunpowder) of a sudden increase in inventory. There are a number of places where Guy and
his friends might have gotten gunpowder; for example, Spain. But of greater interest, where did it
go? Hmmmm . . .
Tuesday morning: Took all
kinds of over-the-counter remedies yesterday evening, slept for eleven hours
last night and I’m sitting up at my keyboard this am. Feeling a little ragged around the edges, coughing
messily, and thinking a cup of hot tea might help. But better than yesterday.
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