Tonight, for the very first time, we will have fireworks in the garden. On a whim, my husband, Nige, announced this morning that he was off to buy some. I put it down to the strong anti-biotics he's taking.
I had baked potato for tea, albeit done in the electric oven and served sans beurre and with Branston Pickle, salad and ham, not a whiff of foil in sight.
And finally, here's a Flash Fiction I wrote a few years ago in remembrance of those lovely family bonfire parties.....
POMPEII 1972
Jumpin’
Jacks lie like coiled worms on the rickety camping table underneath the kitchen
window.
Mum is wrapping jacket potatoes in tin
foil ready to put on the dying embers of the bonfire, and Dad is lighting the
Catherine Wheel. The Standard Firework box is almost empty. There’s just the
Mount Vesuvius, a cone-shaped firework Dad always saves till last; a Spitfire
and a Flying Saucer.
I hope Toby arrives in time for the
Jumpin’ Jacks. I love the way they chase us round the lawn.
“Come and grate some cheese for the
potatoes, Diane!” Mum shouts.
It’s only when I’m through the back
door that I hear a whistle from the garage. Toby must be hiding. He’s four
years older than me and teases me all the time. Last week he set up his army
play-tent in the kitchen and said he’d give me a tenner if I showed him my
privates. I hid the brown note in a pink Tupperware box in our pantry. Mrs
Crowther still hasn’t asked for it back.
I grate the cheese, then skulk off to
find Toby. He’s sitting on an oil drum holding a lit sparkler. It’s dangerous
and thrilling at the same time. Just the two of us in the garage with the
fireworks.
“Which one shall we light first?” he
asks with a grin.
I point with a trembling finger, then
run.
We never did see the Jumpin’ Jacks.
When Mount Vesuvius erupted, Toby turned to ash.
Loved that blog post. I remember bonfire night as a kid...no restrictions. Memories of tinned tomato soup in a cup and sausages on sticks. I loved holding the sparklers and can remember my fingers freezing off even under thick gloves! This year we had the grandchildren in the garden...not to eat obvs :) but the 4 year old loved the sparklers. Sadly no fireworks. Garden too small and price to high! Great bit of flash fiction too!
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