Guy Fawkes Night from Primrose Hill, London.

Remember, remember, the 5th of November.

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It hasn’t been an easy week, one marred with lingering uncertainties, crushing self-doubt and sinking disappointment of an invitation that never came. The cold wind and autumn rain have crept in through the colourful fallen leaves. On top of these, I fell ill right at start of the week, which had not helped to lighten my mood.

It has been such a crappy week that my lovely flat mate decided that we needed this for dinner last Friday.

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Don’t even ask why we were stuffing fat into our body at home on a Friday night instead of going out like normal young people do.

In our defence, I did feel instantly better after the first bite of our dinner. The crispy tortilla chip/crisp covered in greasy cheese dipped into guacamole was exactly what I would call the recipe for the perfect comfort food.

But then I started eating too much and not long after, I fell into a state of stupor and increasing regret that all the sugar-free days and exercises I did for the past week just went down the clogged artery drain.

In summary, it has indeed been an emotional roller-coaster of a week, although admittedly some of the miseries were self-inflicted.

Good thing I have Primrose Hill at my backyard that I could simply take a walk to and clear my head (while desperately try to increase my metabolism rate after the said food). It is such an understated luxury to live within walking distance to one of the best places where you can get a vantage view of London.

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It came especially handy this weekend since it was Guy Fawkes Night, which fell on Saturday. It is a day when British people celebrate Guy Fawkes’ failed attempt to assassinate King James I (he had intended to blow up the House of Lords). To give thanks to the survival of their King, every 5th of November people light up bonfires, burn effigies of Fawkes on them and seemingly the whole of London was lit up with fireworks.

(Guy Fawkes was also the inspiration for Fawkes the Phoenix in Harry Potter, fyi.)

Since I couldn’t get a ticket for the fireworks display at Battersea Park, my friends and I were understandably thrilled to find out that Primrose Hill has been lauded as one of the places in London to watch Guy Fawkes Night fireworks.

We got there slightly before 7 pm. The sky was clear, which was great, but it was also November which meant that it was freeezing up there. This didn’t seem to deter a mob of people from gathering at the top of the hill to get a magnificent display of tiny fireworks emanating from all around the City.

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I came armed with a cup of hot tea which turned immediately cold in the chilly weather. We sat on the damp grass in the dark, together with hundreds of other people braving the November night temperature, admiring the skyline.

Remember, remember, the 5th of November

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The Gunpowder Treason and plot;

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I know of no reason why Gunpowder Treason

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Should ever be forgot.

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(And of course after spending an hour or so huddled in the cold, the moment we got home I realised that we could have gotten a great view of some of the fireworks from the comfort of my room.)

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For such a horrible week, I couldn’t have asked for a better way to end it.

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