The Lower Strangling Chronicles
It was a fairly chilly night on the 5th November, and the residents of Lower Strangling, along with other people, gathered on the island in the middle of the village outside the Church of St Gerald the Damned, where a Bonfire was.
Some were swinging sparklers about, whilst others had glow sticks and marshmallows.
John was serving food at a barbecue, and Jo was serving soup next to him. In front of them was a table of drinks, both alcoholic and soft.
Bonfire night was one of Simon’s favourite nights, being the anti-papist that he was. He would have any excuse to celebrate the failings of Catholicism, and Bonfire Night was the most well known.
“It’s a wonderfully clear night, isn’t it?” Simon said, looking up at the bright stars above the village. “God has certainly blessed us this night. I knew he was a Protestant at heart.”
“Yes. I think you can just about see Jupiter,” Dave said, pointing at a slightly brighter dot to the right of the Moon.
“Really? I would have said it was an aeroplane,” Robert said.
“No. It’s been there for half an hour,” Dave said. “So it’s a very slow-moving aeroplane if it is.”
“It’s the clouds that give the illusion of it moving, as if it were heading to Birmingham Airport,” Paul said.
Robert looked up at the bright dot once more. “I guess so,” he mused.
Elsewhere, Adele, John’s daughter, ate the vegan sausage that her father had prepared for her.
“Hmm. Not bad,” She said. “I quite like barbecued sausages. They have a pleasant tang to them.”
“You only get that after they’ve been almost burned,” John said.
“Interesting,” Adele said, before taking another bite of her vegan hot dog.
Dave, Robert, Paul, and Simon were still observing the night car when Sarah came to join them, holding a cup of pumpkin soup.
“Aren’t you having something more sustaining?” Dave said.
“I am. I just thought I’d have soup first, as it’s available,” Sarah said.
“Ok, sure,” Dave said.
Sarah picked up a crouton and ate it. “I’m not sure whether choosing to have croutons with this was a good idea, but oh well, at least the soup is thick enough to pick them out.”
“Indeed,” Dave said as his wife licked the soup off her fingers.
Simon rubbed his hands. “Right, time for some fireworks, methinks.”
He then walked over to the far side of the island, by the memorial, and stood some rockets side by side.
“Is this particularly wise?” Robert said. “Those rockets could fall anywhere, not to mention the fact that there are several historic cottages around us and a Grade II listed Victorian church.”
John sighed. “Just relax, Rob. Si’s got all this planned out.”
“I ruddy well hope so,” Robert said. “Otherwise we’ll have a lot of work on our hands.”
Paul rolled his eyes, then looked up as the first firework flew into the air.
One by one, the fireworks exploded up ahead. Some were loud, others were colourful, all were beautiful.
“Not as impressive as Kenilworth,” Dave said whilst watching each firework explode about a couple of minutes after the previous one.
“Perhaps. But for a display managed by one person, you must admit it’s pretty good,” Sarah said.
Dave sighed. “I suppose,” he said, “I suppose.”
After about ten minutes, the fireworks display was over.
Simon walked back to the rest of the group.
“Was that it?” Will asked.
Simon laughed. “Yes. That was all the church budget could allow, I’m afraid. But not to worry, there’s still plenty of food to go around.”
Just then, a rocket fell in front of Simon, slightly hitting him on the thumb.
Various people gasped. But all Simon said was “ow” and sucked his thumb.
“Told you,” Robert said to John. John merely rolled his eyes.
“Are you alright, Simon?” Dave said.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a mild burn on my thumb,” Simon said. “It’s better that I get mildly injured than someone else getting severely injured.”
“Or one of the village buildings becomes damaged,” Dave said.
“Indeed. Anyhow, who’s up for another burger?” Simon said, before going over to the barbecue himself.
After a while, mostly everyone had left for the night, leaving only the residents of Lower Strangling.
Together, they put out the bonfire and cleared up the food and drinks.
“Right. Goodnight, everyone,” Simon said. “See you tomorrow in church for the service.”
With that, Simon and the other villagers went home.
Eventually, they vacated the island in the middle of the village, and allowed the dead to rest under their graves, undisturbed once more.
The Robinsonverse 