What also matters is Guy Fawkes day, which may seem precious but no, after enough years it seems the right thing to acknowledge. The sight of the burning Guy fills me with legitimate awe.
Two years ago I wrote a livejournal entry about the annual celebration hosted by my friends Darcy and Paul (an expat Brit). This year a local newspaper published a story about this event, with specific mention of my Border morris team.
So on Saturday evening I will head south of the Twin Cities in my Border kit, taking my drum with me and perhaps some food, to celebrate Bonfire Night with my friends. Sometimes we huddle in the chicken house for warmth and sing political songs.
I wish you all a riotous Bonfire Night of your own.