Bommy Night

There is no local bonfire round my end this year. It’s not quite the same if you are an adult anyway. Back in the day, I was swung over the burning embers by the biggest lads on my estate. One had my wrists, the other my ankles. I won’t mention any names, but they could have launched me into the middle of the flames and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. I was terrified at the time, but now that serves as quite a good bonfire memory. No harm came of it. Before all the collected firewood was assembled into the typical molehill-shaped mountain, we used to make a den. Any mattresses would be bounced on and jumped on without any care for hygiene. There was no Call of Duty back then. Once the fire was underway, I was always one of the last ones in, trying to cook a potato wrapped up in tinfoil with no success. And I was always first back out to it in the morning, when a rustle of the grey ashes with a stick would reveal still red hot flames. I found it more fun to play with a sparkler, drawing infinity shape 8s in the smoky air, than cheap rockets. For me, now, if I desire to view fireworks, midnight the 31^st of December is the best place to be. Then, you get a concentrated effect. It’s a shame, but Halloween has taken over Bonfire night, and Christmas is already on the go come this time of year as well. It’s as though Christmas is a season, like Spring; it's a full on two month process with a soggy turkey finale!