Remember the 5th of November?

Remember, remember the 5th of November . . . Ah yes, I remember it well. Wrapped up so tightly in jumpers, coat and scarf I could bearly walk and the thrill of actually going out somewhere after dark, plus I got to wear my wellies. (All children love wearing wellies, that's just a fact) The cold November night air numbing my cheeks as I walked towards the recreation ground with my blue woolen gloves holding tightly onto my mums hand, because I still had a healthy fear of fireworks and didn't like getting too close to the action. Walking nearer and enjoying the novelty of watching each breath hang in the chilly night air in a swirling cloud in front of me. Then watching as it snaked and spiraled it's way towards the orange glow of the street lights way above.

Ahead over the treeline, the distant sounds of hundreds of people gathered together and of children laughing and screaming start to be heard. Through a narrow twitten, slightly overgrown with brambles, where we had to walk in single file. So I had to cling even tighter to my mum's hand so I didn't lose her in the bustling throng of people at the other end of the confined alley. Then out the other end and into the loud mass of the crowds that were starting to gather around the temporary orange roped fence.

The rhythmic hum of generators and smell of cooked onions wafting across the dark field from the hot dog vans that were parked around place, mixed together with the sweet odour of toffee apple and candy floss stalls. A feast for all the senses. Then staying near the path that ran around the edge of the field we patiently waited.

The flickering glow from the enormous bonfire which had been built like a tower and was now a roaring inferno was warming my face as it crackled and spat at the far end of the field. Then the sound of someone speaking indecipherable words over a tannoy interrupted the general throng and silence broke out across the still starlit night. Waiting, knowing that soon the fireworks would start. Waiting . . . then with a deafening 'WOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHH . . . BANG!' they started.

The first one always made me jump, and although excited I was still more than a little scared by the noise and the spectacle. As each one was let off one after the other I would nervously laugh and look to my mum and say something like "hehehe that was a loud one" pretending I was actually very brave about it all, but my tight clinging hand in hers revealed the truth.

Ahh yes, bonfire nights are lovely indeed. So do go and make some memories of your own tonight should you wish, and stay safe out there people.