Where Bonfire night lasts 2 months
Forget a damp field with a couple of hundred onlookers gazing at a pile of sticks and wondering when it’ll be lit.
Forget even sports fields with professionally-organised fireworks that dazzle the gathered crowds.
Firework nights in East Sussex start in early September, and thousands turn out in full costumes week after week. There’s nothing like it.
I'd heard of Lewes Bonfire Night celebrations before.
After all, I went to Sussex University, and Lewes is just a stone's-throw away from there. But I was (relatively) young, and it sounded like a nightmare to get to, what with the crowds, and, to be honest, I was a little bit scared of it all.
But now we live in East Sussex. And now I see that it's not just Lewes, and not just Bonfire night.
It's Lewes and Uckfield and Mayfield and Heathfield. It's Rye and Battle and Hailsham, Northiam, Crowborough and Eastbourne. It's every week end, somewhere, between the first week in September, and a week or two after what everyone else thinks of as Bonfire Night.
And it’s not even really about Guy Fawkes in East Sussex. I mean sure – he’s mentioned. But for every mention of him, there are a dozen references to the Lewes Martyrs. There are memorials and plaques to be visited all year round, but in firework season, people march in their name.
Effigies are burned.
Barrels of fire are pulled through the streets.
Even crosses are burned.
And yet…. It’s really not scary. The atmosphere is fun, carnival-like. It made me happy, for example, to see that right behind the first set of burning crosses in Heathfield this year were smiling members of the WI, raising money for good causes.
Everyone gets involved – there are children of 18 months and people in their 80s. There are prams and wheelchairs in the procession. There are people in full “day-of-the-dead” skeleton outfits and in traditional bonfire society striped tops.
Each town has its own tales and traditions, and its own Bonfire Society to preserve them (except Lewes – so big is Bonfire Night there that they have three separate societies).
For example, in Rye, the fire is always topped with a boat. On their excellent website, Rye Bonfire society mention several possible reasons for this – including that
“Whenever a boat was captured from the Danes, it was the practice of the Ryers to haul the vessel through the streets and finally burn it on the cliffs, as a warning to other marauders at sea”
before going on to conclude that it probably comes from the Ryers choosing to burn their boats rather than allowing the marauding French to capture and steal them.
At all these events, there’s food and drink and fireworks galore. Sometimes there are fairground rides.
And whilst the pubs are open and well-frequented, I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that I’ve never seen a drunk person at any of these events. It’s a non-threatening, inclusive, fun, family night out for all.
Except for the Bonfire Societies themselves. For them, it’s not just one night.
For every village and town has its own bonfire society – clubs which draw their members from their own population, and charge membership like any other such group would.
They raise money for local charities as part of the evenings, and give of their time and effort for free.
For the members of these groups – the Battle Bonfire Boyes, the Hastings Borough Bonfire Society, the Newick Bonfire Society and all the others – their Bonfire night is, most would agree, not just one evening.
It's bigger than Christmas. They plan for months, and spend the entire day getting ready. The maroon sounds in the morning to begin the day of anticipation and excitement and ends with the burning of the bonfire.
And what bonfires they are.
These are bonfires bigger than my house. Featuring actual real boats. Topped with guys whose heads have survived for over 200 years (yes, really – they're removed before the burning and kept for the next year) and effigies of the year's villains, politicians and more.
The heat they put out is astonishing, the size unforgettable.
They are the focal point of the evening, more than the fireworks which would themselves grace any commercial display.
And, once the flames have died down, once the clothes have been washed free of the smell of smoke and gunpowder, the preparations begin for wherever next week's carnival will be.
There really is nowhere like it.
Welcome to East Sussex.
