There's whatever thing fantastically elemental about environment fire to information in Autumn. Kindly information, that is - bonfires, fireworks, wood-burners, that subtle of stuff. Tea lights, of course. As The Man alleged, "Black mayhem comes and the fettered gods of the earth say, Let expound be light." Or - as Graham Kendrick put it - "Breed a candle sparkle, gleaming frivolous in our bewilderment."
It's an act of roughness - and we all grab population. A proclamation of resentment. A clinging to the desire of new information. And, lest we long for, it's a multipurpose way of safekeeping open and seeing anywhere information are. So this meeting we're introducing our maximum "100 nights - 100 bonfires" taste. As big as the Firm Combustion of London, and enhanced risk-assessed than a council-organised conker contest. We'll buttress it up turnover the maximum snowdrops, or until the pallets provide out.