Dear Father,
Yesterday was a histerical day because the English all throo this land remember the guy who tired to blow out the house of parliament with the gun powder which is dynamite. This guy was called fawkes and this is the same sound like the forks wich I use with the knifes.
The days before this grate advent the children knocks on the doors of the peoples front and they are having on the painted faces the call the masts and they shales the collect box an say "a penny for the guy" but they are the beggas and I understand not.
In the rear gardens in the country is made the idol of this bad guy with the cast away suets and stockings and the old hats, then the fathers lit the binfires and they throws this poor guy inside the flams and he bern to the deth and there is the bang bang bang and the sparkers because there is exposing the fireworks which is inside of him. I was looking up and on the sky was the wunderful spectacles and the dripping stars into the ground and my ears was hearing the bangs on the air. The makers of the fireworks a big big phrophet makes and they is happy when they expired last night to the beds and they wist that every day is that guy fawkes day.
Your loving son,
Iziz
