Anyone going to one?
The Council puts on quite a good fireworks display where I live and Mrs Sluffy likes to go to see it, so that's where I will be this weekend.
When I was a lad though we used to collect and store wood for the weeks leading up to Bonfire night - and I mean the proper one on the 5th November irrespective of what ever day that fell on. We used to have it in the back yard too - the cobbled back street between the two rows of the terraced housing we lived in.
Used to be great nights, a real family event, parents, kids, grandparents of several neighbouring houses, perched on old chairs and boxes destined for the bommy later that night, sharing the fireworks, eating treacle toffee, black peas and parkin.
The men used to have bits of rope - well thick string really, that they set fire to the end of and either blew on every now and again, or swung in a circle, to keep the flame alive. This rope was used to light the fireworks - bangers and jumping jacks being my favourites - both outlawed for being too dangerous years back.
I knew I was of age one year - I was about ten - when my dad allowed me my own rope and let me set off some of the fireworks myself.
At the end of the night we used to put the Guy Fawkes we had made – usually from old clothes stuffed with screwed up newspaper - which we touted around the area seeking ‘a penny for the Guy’ the week before the night itself.
The following morning we used to get up early and see if there was any life left in the embers of the bonfire and desperately tried to get the thing going again before we had to go to school.
Far better than these tame organised events we have these days - but I guess no one gets burned any more - one of my mates once got 'singed' a bit trying to leap across his bommy and falling back in to it - the stupid sod!
Happy days.
The Council puts on quite a good fireworks display where I live and Mrs Sluffy likes to go to see it, so that's where I will be this weekend.
When I was a lad though we used to collect and store wood for the weeks leading up to Bonfire night - and I mean the proper one on the 5th November irrespective of what ever day that fell on. We used to have it in the back yard too - the cobbled back street between the two rows of the terraced housing we lived in.
Used to be great nights, a real family event, parents, kids, grandparents of several neighbouring houses, perched on old chairs and boxes destined for the bommy later that night, sharing the fireworks, eating treacle toffee, black peas and parkin.
The men used to have bits of rope - well thick string really, that they set fire to the end of and either blew on every now and again, or swung in a circle, to keep the flame alive. This rope was used to light the fireworks - bangers and jumping jacks being my favourites - both outlawed for being too dangerous years back.
I knew I was of age one year - I was about ten - when my dad allowed me my own rope and let me set off some of the fireworks myself.
At the end of the night we used to put the Guy Fawkes we had made – usually from old clothes stuffed with screwed up newspaper - which we touted around the area seeking ‘a penny for the Guy’ the week before the night itself.
The following morning we used to get up early and see if there was any life left in the embers of the bonfire and desperately tried to get the thing going again before we had to go to school.
Far better than these tame organised events we have these days - but I guess no one gets burned any more - one of my mates once got 'singed' a bit trying to leap across his bommy and falling back in to it - the stupid sod!
Happy days.