So...Bonfire Night. A night of colour, spectacle, and people standing around with their mouths open going 'oooh' and 'aaahhh'.
I used to love Bonfire Night. I adore fireworks and toffee apples, bonfire toffee and all the other things associated with it. But these days my Guy Fawkes night is a very different affair. The reason for this is my furbaby, Queen H. - a spoilt rotten Labrador and hater of all things going bang in the night. (Queen H - as in Queen of the Household).
When you are mother to a dog (or cat - or god forbid a poor scared rabbit) Bonfire Night is the one night of the year you can Never Leave The House! You must close all windows and probably the curtains, turn up the television and drown out the sound of the fireworks, and rockets, and those things that make an awful screaming noise as they whizz down the street.
This means you miss all the good stuff. I get around this by leaving Him Indoors downstairs with the beast of burden - while I escape to peer out of an upstairs window and watch the fireworks in the valley down below.
