It's been a busy week for contrasting festivals, commencing with Halloween, followed by Loy Krathong, while today some Brits will be marking Guy Fawkes Night commemorating the abortive Gunpowder Plot of 1605.
There was a time when the 5th of November would stir just a little sense of excitement in my adolescent blood, but alas those days have long gone.
Loy Krathong is one of Thailand's more pleasant festivals and certainly less boisterous than the Songkran mayhem. More importantly, you don't get wet -- that is unless you happen to fall in a river or klong, not beyond the realms of possibility.
Getting to a decent stretch of water can be a problem, however. A couple of years ago I was stuck for hours in a horrendous traffic jam in Sathon in what became a bladder- challenging situation. It didn't exactly help the festive spirit.
I must admit to not having much luck with krathongs over the years. Lighting the candle always takes forever and then the krathongs invariably sink at the slightest ripple.
The first Loy Krathong festival I experienced was in the early 1970s when a group of us had ventured down to the Chao Phraya River in Klong Toey. I duly launched the krathong and it was actually bobbing along quite nicely for a few seconds when the hand of an urchin emerged from the murky water, pinched the 5-baht coin I had placed on it, and duly sank the krathong. Not exactly a great omen for the coming year.
No treats
During my schooldays, back in the Dark Ages, I don't recall Halloween being celebrated at all in southern England. However, with its Celtic origins, it was enthusiastically observed in Scotland and Ireland and across the pond in the United States.
If any kids had knocked on our door and asked "trick or treat?", I wouldn't have known what they were talking about. However, Halloween now appears more popular in England than Guy Fawkes Night.
Ostensibly for kids, the most important aspect of Halloween is that is gives adults an opportunity to do daft things, dressing up in seriously silly costumes and usually getting plastered in the process, which probably explains why it's so popular.
When I first came to Thailand, I don't think anyone had even heard of Halloween, but times have unfortunately changed.
I recall a couple of years ago walking through a mall where there were dozens of Thai toddlers taking part in a Halloween costume contest dressed as witches, ghosts, hobgoblins and assorted foul fiends. Far more scary, however, was a corpulent farang staggering in inebriated fashion along Sukhumvit Road in an ill-fitting spandex skeleton outfit. I hope he wasn't going to work.
Of course Thais have the wonderful ability to celebrate anything as long as it has the potential of being good fun. If it's sanuk, go for it -- and why not?
Jumping jack flash
Bonfire Night is undoubtedly a much more subdued event in Britain these days, partly due to stricter but necessary safety regulations. It is much easier for shops to sell silly Halloween outfits than fireworks.
In the 1950s and '60s, every other house on my estate had its own bonfire and fireworks party in the back garden. It was great for us kids. Just reading the instructions on the fireworks -- "light blue touch paper and retire" -- was enough to send a shiver of excitement down the spine. Lighting rockets was the highlight, sometimes mischievously aiming them at houses of neighbours you didn't like.
While mums and dads appreciated Catherine wheels and roman candles, the kids were more into bangers, while you could create havoc with those deadly jumping jacks whizzing around.
The downside, of course, was that the cats and dogs hated it. My little hound in Bangkok jumps in fright every time a firework goes off.
Penny for the guy
One of the traditions leading up to Guy Fawkes Night was for kids to build a "guy" out of old clothes. They would later sit on street corners asking "a penny for the guy, mister".
When my cousin and I were about nine, we spent a whole day building a guy that included a giant carrot for a nose and buttons for his eyes. We eventually put it in a wheelbarrow to take it to our grandmother's house where there was to be a Bonfire Night party.
We were walking down a quiet lane when the local bully emerged. He was several years older than us, twice our size and a nasty piece of work. He proceeded to rip off the guy's head and dismember the rest of it while sneering at us like a pantomime villain.
He even took a large bite of the carrot. We both burst into tears at seeing our day's efforts ruined by this idiot.
Grandma saves the day
I'll never forget the look on my grandmother's face when these two tearful lads finally appeared pushing a wheelbarrow with a bundle of rags that was once a proud guy. There was also a half-eaten carrot to complete the sorry scene.
She tried to cheer us up by saying "That's a lovely guy" but unfortunately added: "Where's it's head?" Cue for more waterworks.
Grandma felt so sorry for us that she gave us sixpence each, which improved our mood no end, but it was the last time we ever made a guy.
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