Gunpowder, Treason & Plot.

Even if I had just awoken from a year long coma, I would still know that it is the 5th of November tomorrow. Walking home from work this evening, I could already smell the pungent stench of bonfire in the bitterly cold autumn air. Fireworks have been going off for days now so they are no real surprise - they're one of those things that people need very little excuse to let off. I've never quite got the appeal but I suppose it's something to do with man's obsession with fire; the somewhat prettier equivalent of a BBQ.

In favour of a quieter, more chilled out November 5th (complete with V For Vendetta, naturally), we got our celebrations out of the way with yesterday. Adam bought a few fireworks, hotdogs and marshmallows and even managed to haul the fire pit out of the garage ready for the neighbours coming over.

We messed around with sparklers, laughed at Adam's horrendous attempt at a Catherine Wheel and came to realize exactly why it is that I'll never entertain the idea of having children. Don't get me wrong, they're great kids but they seem to require constant attention, wreak havoc on everything they touch and are able to throw what are quite possibly the biggest tantrums I've ever seen (and you haven't seen Adam's!). God love them.

I did try my hand at some firework photography but I doubt things could have gone any worse than they did. The wind was blowing a gale and with it came rain. I had no idea how to use Adam's tripod and he seemed hellbent on letting the fireworks off without telling me which direction they would travel. Needless to say, I missed 98% of them. Better luck next time I guess?

Now I'm treating myself to an early night. I've been ridiculously tired lately to the point I just feel like laying down and sleeping part way through the day - very un-wayne like. I blame Adam's irritating snoring and constant teeth-grinding that goes on all night. I've decided that the only solution is to ensure I'm in bed by 10 to help catch up.

Having said that, I am already 9 minutes over but who's counting?

A surprising Halloween.

I hope everyone had a fantastic Halloween! Despite being English, I have a ridiculous love of the Halloween season; part of me even prefers it to Christmas. Maybe it's the heathen in me? Who knows.

Usually we get dressed up and go out partying but Adam was working this year so I opted for a quiet night in alone with horror films and pumpkin carving. I say a quiet night but it actually turned into one of the most exhausting nights I've had in many months. I have never seen so many trick or treaters in my entire life!

To the Americans, the presence of trick or treaters probably won't come as a surprise but here in Britain it has never really taken hold the way it has across seas. If you're lucky (or unlucky), most houses will probably only get one or two but within 2 hours I managed to get through 75 bags of Haribo - literally raped by Halloween. I knew that we would probably get more in this new house what with living in the suburbs near lots of families and the ever increasing popularity of Halloween each year. I loved it - the families looked amazing dressed up and the street came alive. Weirdly, you don't see many house decorated for Halloween but of the 7 houses in our street, 5 were decked out. I hope the trend continues, it's such a fun time of year and I'm extremely jealous of the US when it comes around. I just need to be better equipped next year - finding extra stock of emergency sweets in the local shop at 6pm on Halloween is virtually impossible.

We put all of our creative efforts into decorating at work. It was a lot easier this year as the schools have been off for half term which means it was pretty quiet. It actually gave us a great distraction from an otherwise boring two weeks. I donned an old Batman top that I made whilst at university, taped some bin liner wings to the arms and graced everyone with my make-shift bat effort. I'd be lying if I said the wings weren't insanely annoying. They got caught everywhere; toilet door, between my chair arms and the desk, under cups etc etc. Deep joy.

 

Next up is November 5th - Guy Fawkes night. Fireworks have already started going off and I've started to smell one or two bonfires. I can't say I've ever been particularly fond of Bonfire Night. It annoys me that one of Britain's main 'must celebrate' events takes place in the darkest depths of Winter and celebrates someone being hung, drawn and quartered. Let's just say I don't see the appeal of being crammed in a cold, wet field amongst thousands of people whilst they burn an effigy in memory of a public execution. Childhood memories of it is another thing - Catherine Wheels getting stuck on the garden fence, Dad launching rockets in the wrong direction and burning my rain-soaked fingers on sparklers. Sigh.

Anyway, I need to stop being a killjoy - Adam is already talking about buying a few fireworks and inviting our neighbour over for hotdogs and marshmallows. Happy face at the ready!

Nettleham Hall.

For those that were worried (humour me), I can confirm that I am in fact not dead, I've just been slightly M.I.A for a while. Not to worry, I'm back now and far more inclined to actually post thanks to my shiny new iMac (a slightly impulsive and extravagant purchase but motivational nonetheless).

On Sunday, we took my new camera for its first real outing as I've been bugging Adam for weeks to take me somewhere worth photographing. I'm not from this county originally and struggle to make my way into the centre of town, let alone discover points of interest.

We ended up at the ruins of the derelict 'Nettleham Hall', situated about 15 minutes from where we live. I can't believe I have lived here this long without realising such a fantastic place existed just down the road. From what I can figure out from Google and Adam's Grandad, the hall itself was the seat of power for the Hood family; more notably John Hood who accompanied General Monk from Scotland in 1660 in attempting to restore Charles II to power. Reports are vague but the hall was 'mysteriously' destroyed by fire in 1937.

I'm not going to lie, it is quite possibly the eeriest place you could ever wish to visit. Smack bang in the heart of dense, silent woodland and overgrown by vines - I can think of nothing worse than visiting at night. Just before the hall itself, is a little groundsman's cottage. You can still make out some of the wallpaper detail in the front room and the remnants of a kitchen. I'd give anything to see photos of what it used to like but alas, it appears no real photos survived.

Not too much exists of the hall itself except the main wall structure, archways, some plaster detail and the cellars. The whole thing has a sort of creepy 'Indiana Jones/Tomb Raider' feel.

I discovered online that it is quite the hotspot for enthusiasts of derelict places (yes there is such a phenomenon) and that many visitors have been chased away by a particularly aggressive farmer. Luckily, we didn't experience that pleasure.

We've toyed with the idea of visiting the abandoned Nocton Hall next but something about visiting a derelict RAF hospital makes me feel slightly uncomfortable. After all, those kinds of excursions never end well in horror films. Watch this space; you never know how persuasive Adam can be.

Now I'm off to catch up on all of your blogs to see how you've all been getting on. I guess we'll see if this storm materialises that everyone has been banging on about. My personal guess is that it won't touch us up here. Damn the sensationalised weather reporting in this country.