Of many twinkling, coloured lights

This year's Guy Fawkes Day was very different from the last. I was on a plane flying back from Dublin when the celebrations threw many coloured lights into the air. As a matter of fact, I was in the window seat on the plane as it landed in Heathrow airport.

I doubt many people remember the true significance of the 5th of November anymore here, all it is now is an excuse to light fireworks and have something special to do for the evening with the kids while as many twinkling coloured lights as you can manage burst into the air.

For me, by concidence, it became a revelation of astonishing beauty.

As the plane flew long over London, the ground laid out like glittering embroidery. The rolling, curving lines of street lamps, buildings, the Thames moved like a fabric, one that was fit for any queen. Every now and then, a light winked and shone, as we passed away from the tall office buildings and over households, street upon street of lined houses, gathering the fireworks for the evening.

Almost gradually, the fireworks started, rising from the ground silently, bursting in slow motion. One, then another, and another. This must be the first time I have ever seen a meme made visible. Household after household, it was a hope, a thought, a prayer rising in solemn celebration from the ground.

As the plane landed, there were still fireworks going off around Heathrow, as if the land itself was saying "this is not enough, there is more". I cannot describe how exactly the angles changed, as fireworks seen from above started to grow, and spread itself from tender bubbles into glowing umbrellas, then finally into fiery rain.

But I think I know now why the window seat is Monsieur G's favourite spot on the plane.