Bonfires are Magical

I think bonfires are utterly magical. And I have done for years. But for me part of the magic is the fact that they never lose the magic. I've had the great pleasure of being around, feeding, building and generally enjoying bonfires for pretty much as long as I can remember, and yet still, I have more to learn from them.

The "man and fire" connection.

The amazing meditative quality of gazing at a fire as it burns.

The sense of peace evoked by being by a bonfire after darkness has fallen, the moon rising behind it.

And, perhaps most importantly this time round, their beautiful demonstration of the fact that Everything Changes. All The Time.

Some may argue it's somewhat cliched or trite, but change in any and all aspects of life and living is absolutely inevitable. Having spent a week at my parents' in rural Oxfordshire and resurrecting the bonfire ashes several times, these fires have somehow captured my imagination as a stunning example of change. Why?

Maybe it was the huge difference between being around a bonfire, and by being the bonfire builder, nurturer and carer. I hadn't been in the latter position for a while and being back where my bonfiring began was simply marvellous. This time round it was fairly "easy going" bonfiring - there was no big deadline, no pressure but somehow exactly the right amount of stuff to burn. But each day was a different bonfire. How it started. How it burned. How it needed looking after to keep it going. How the embers were left at the end of the night. How the ash pile was the following morning.

Maybe it was the evocation of memories of bonfires past - people who have been part of previous "burnings" and those who never quite made it. Where they are now. What they're up to. Those I'm in touch with - those that I'm not.

And maybe it's simply the fact that bonfires change. Constantly, organically and unerringly - even as ashes there's still an evolution going on. Sometimes the fire's nature is somewhat predictable (watching it build, the flames bursting through occasionally from the bed of hot ashes, anticipating where they'll go next) but there's never absolute certainty as to what will happen next. Bonfires, more than wood burners or even open fires, seem to me to have so much more space for their own way of doing things - the side that will burn more, the influence of the wind. And that freedom to me is what creates the utter mesmeric nature I found myself completely enfolded in as I sat watching.

Bonfires are special. And I think they're magical. But my newfound analogy of their constantly changing, fundamentally unpredictable nature is what's really warming my soul just now.

Lazy Sunday Morning

Having consumed the best part of a large block of tofu for breakfast (why have I not had more scrambled tofu Sunday morning breakfasts in my life to date? Something which shall, henceforth, be rectified) I'm still not particularly inclined to start dashing about. And, gratefully, I have no need to. Huzzah!

"Busy" is a rather non-descriptive term for how my life tends to be. Given it's more interesting when I'm *not* busy. So a better term to use today I think is incessant. Chatting to a friend over some Fentiman's CherryTree cola ("Hello! What's the red Fentiman's, please? Oh, it's a new Cherry cola? Brilliant! One of those please!") yesterday it was her who managed to identify what I'd been up to last weekend - so much has happened since and so much is lined up for the imminent future. There's a definite zest for life at the moment (as opposed to a relentless "just keep going") and with it thoughts mulling in my mind of possibilities - and enjoying making my house more of a home. I've also an acute awareness of "nothing ever stays still" - and the importance to be settled with the changing, while also enjoying memories and nostalgia.

All of which is rather airy fairy compared to drumming in the wind and the rain last night! Batala Lancaster had a gig as part of the warm up for Lancaster City Council's fireworks display from the castle. We played in two of the viewing areas - and arriving at the first in the dark, the rain threatening and the wind whistling, to a crowd of zilch was not one of the most inspiring audiences we've had! But (and it makes me proud to be a part of this brilliant band) we started with gusto at the designated hour and had a crowd of souls who'd come out to brave the elements enjoying the performance. If there's one thing we do exceptionally well, it's bringing energy, enthusiasm and gusto to every gig we do - regardless of the circumstances. Our second set started with a much bigger audience (being that much closer to the start of the fireworks display) but it rapidly became apparent the grass we were playing on had a strong inclination to become mud under our feet. That our caller for that set was completely unaware of that fact and called several of our "moving" numbers just made it all the more amusing!

We had a great reception from the audience and there was quite a lot of "Can I bang your drum?" after the set as many of us were staying for the fireworks. I love playing with Batala. That I'm now beginning to remember the tunes helps, too!

And the fireworks! An impressive display but my favourite of the night were the fireworks that had a large reach of twinkling sparkles cascading down. And no, words don't really do justice to fireworks. After depositing my drum back in another band member's vehicle (after the Ingleton Falls gig I know I *could* cycle to a gig with my drum on my back, but when there's no need to, I don't!) I headed off to the pub, only to discover I was really tired and much more in need of food than I'd given myself credit for. I'm always fascinated by the times when I get a really physical reaction to food (either a lack thereof, or an overload) and last night was certainly one. The fact I had a particularly strenuous cycle home (getting drenched while also battling gusty winds) just added to the craziness.

And the cycle in! Again I got drenched, but this time in an utter downpour during a thunderstorm that was followed by amazing sunshine, a double rainbow and the stunning contrast of autumnal leaves' sparkling colours against the black of a post-thunderstorm sky. That it was then dry for a good 90 minutes after (the ride was about 20 minutes - at least 7 of which were during The Drenching) just reinforced my satisfaction of *not* being a fairweather cyclist.

So now I find myself on a quiet Sunday morning, not quite in the mood to do much other than mooch. Which is pretty much what Sundays were designed for, in my book.