Burn the catholic!

Wednesday morning started with a hangover and a bright sunny day; not my favourite combination.

But the throbbing I my head from too many Stellas was a minor inconvenience. The rain clouds were taking a break and there was a real feeling of joy in the air, similar to the day after the 1997 election. I just hope Obama lets us down more gently than Tony Blair did.

The day was a two parter. In the morning I was moderating a panel session on Web 2.0 at a major conference in the city. In the evening I was heading over to Muir Beach for a traditional November 5th tradition, burning a Catholic in effigy.

The morning went well. I moderated successfully, with only a few hiccups and my opener that it had been an historic 12 hours bought cheers and whoops. Obamamania is still running high.

But I was looking forward to the evening. There’s a sizable British contingent in San Francisco and even though I hadn’t been to a bonfire night in years I was looking forward to this one.

To those who don’t know November 5th is commonly known as Guy Fawkes, or Bonfire, Night, after an attempt in 1605 to blow up the English parliament. England was in the midst of religious wars that roared across Europe for hundreds of years – catholic against protestant.

In many ways the current situation is very similar to back then. Two religious groups who basically believe the same thing are fighting to the death over minor differences. Back then it was over accepting the primacy of the pope over the rights of common man. Now it’s fighting over whether Jesus was the son of god or just another prophet on a par with Moses or Mohammed.

Anyway, Fawkes was caught guarding gunpowder, the most potent explosives of the day, cached underneath the Palace of Westminster. The plan was to set it off and start a revolution. The plan was foiled by a leak in the team and Fawkes, after resisting torture for four days, was hung, drawn and quartered and began a UK tour, albeit in small pieces. He is remembered in the poetry:

“Remember, remember the fifth of November,
The gunpowder, treason and plot,
I know of no reason
Why the gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.”

It’s odd that someone who is ostensibly a terrorist should have achieved immortality in the public imagination not granted to kings or deserving leaders. But I have fond memories of bonfire nights; watching fireworks shooting into the sky, the warmth of the bonfire and roasting chestnuts with an old school master at Stancliffe in a metal dustbin lid. I even flew into London from a business trip once on November 5th and seeing fireworks from above was a memorable experience.

After a long and twisty drive down to the beach we stumbled out in the darkness towards the bonfire. It was quite a pile, something the builders were proud of, but a little pissed off as the beach officials had insisted it was out by 8:30pm and there was no way that pile of wood was going to burn in that time unless napalm was used.

There were also no fireworks but nevertheless it was a fun night out and after watching as five home-made guys were burnt we wandered along the beach watching the surf glistening in the light. The moon was out and it was a really lovely evening.

Then we wandered up to the Pelican Inn, an English themed hotel, for their buffet dinner. We feasted on fish and chips, bangers and mash and a shepherd’s pie that was a tad too heavy on the cheese and sweetcorn but very nice nevertheless. I also enjoyed a pint of ESB, bottled but still lovely and a good taste of home.

The hotel itself is the most English place I’ve found over here. This was partially down to the high number of Brits about but the place itself was very authentic. Lots of thick wood beams, horse brasses and rickety old stools gave a very nice atmosphere and the conversations on the football, why the MG is the best car in the history of motoring and why David Cameron is a slimy little toe rag reminded me strongly of home.