Gunpowder, treason, and plot

I haven't posted in AGES (i.e. four days now) and I can't imagine how you all have borne it. I hope that you've been filling your time with informative and intellectually stimulating substitutions such as The New York Times or Wall Street Journal, but then I'm not one to judge. Personally, I've been enjoying some one-on-one time with my favorite 19th century men, the illustrious Dickens and incorrigible Wilde, who insist on teaching me lots on morality, Victorian crime, and personality based on multiplicity. Good times had by all (especially that wicked Dorian Gray)!

I did pull a Cinderella earlier this week and made an appearance at the Oxford Union Midnight in Paris Ball. Alas, no pumpkin, but I was home by midnight (Mumsie and Poppers, kindly take note of your responsible daughter) and managed to make it back still in possession of both of my shoes.
Anyway, I can't even begin to describe the fabulousness of this ball. There were flamethrowers. Chocolate fountains. Photobooths (obviously). Men making mouth-watering crêpes. Too much cake. ICE CREAM. Giant star-lit tents. Jugglers. Casino games. All this took place in the ancient libraries of the Union and outside surrounded by those amazing heat lamps, and it was not unlike entering Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory for the first time. Or maybe I just felt that way since I was so transparently there for the food.

In other news, it was also recently Guy Fawkes Night. Contrary to what you might think, we burn effigies of Guy Fawkes on his night rather than celebrate him. He even has his own little rhyme:

Remember, remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason, why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, guy, t'was his intent
To blow up king and parliament.
Three score barrels were laid below
To prove old England's overthrow.

By God's mercy he was catch'd
With a darkened lantern and burning match.
So, holler boys, holler boys, Let the bells ring.
Holler boys, holler boys, God save the king.

And what shall we do with him?
Burn him!

They really aren't all as civilized over here as they would have you believe. Man getting burned=just cause for epic firework display. Just don't ask.

EXCITING LIFE UPDATE: I will be WWOOFing in Wales from December 6th to the 13th! I'm going to be gardening/learning how to make preserves and hopefully will have the opportunity to make my way around the Welsh countryside a bit before heading home for that classic Vermont white Christmas. Whippin' out those wellies, baby.