The Three Halves of Martyn Manning-Chapter Seventeen: Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow - Part Two

And
then one day it was October 27^th,
a Thursday as it happened. She
was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying
a late lunch of smoked
mackerel with tomatoes and rye bread when she heard the
swoosh
and clatter of something being pushed through the front
letter
box and falling onto the mat.
The
postman had already been, so she
rose from the
table and walked the few steps to the door to
see what it was. She
picked up a slim magazine with a glossy cover photo of the local
church and
which
announced itself as the
November edition of The
Village Bugle. Back at the table she flicked through the pages as she
continued her meal. It
was the usual stuff you might expect, a
brief editorial bemoaning the failure of dog owners to pick up their
pets’ shit, the minutes of the October Parish Council meeting,
articles by the secretaries of the Gardening Club and the WI, ads
from local tradesmen. She was about to put it on the recycling pile
and clear the table when she happened
to notice a
full page advert on the back cover, her
attention drawn by the garish colours and an
amateur’s use of stock
clip-art line drawings.

Remember
Remember the Fifth of November!

ANNUAL
VILLAGE BONFIRE NIGHT!

FIREWORK
DISPLAY! PIG ROAST! BAR!

Prize
For Best Childrens’ Guy!

Starts
6.30 On the Village Green!

DON’T
MISS THE VILLAGE EVENT OF THE YEAR!

So
it was that time of year again. She smiled. Crazy English! It’s
November! It’s the middle of winter! You should be inside with the
curtains drawn, the heating on full and i-player on the box! November
is not the time to be going outside in the cold and dark to build
bonfires, set off fireworks and burn effigies of a bloke from four
hundred years ago who nearly did something bad but now not many
people can remember what it was. Are you all mad? Her thoughts went
back to previous bonfire nights in Somerset. Yes they’d had fun,
but they’d been small affairs, just her and the kids, sometimes a
few of the kids’ friends, a parent if they’d managed to get back
from the City in time, they’d huddle round a small fire and let off
a few rockets. But this seemed a much grander affair. Oh well, she’d
have to take the kids anyway and it might be more fun than it
sounded. She’d just have to get wrapped up. It would give her a
chance to wear her new scarf and gloves. She stepped away from the
recycling and put the Bugle on the dresser.

END
OF CHAPTER