The rain stopped and the clouds cleared just in time for our bonfire night celebrations on Saturday. We snuggled up around the fire in my mum and dad’s garden, fingers warmed by mugs of hot soup. In the distance fireworks popped and whizzed, lighting up the night sky. The children traced them along the horizon, joining in with their own glittering sparkler dance. As the evening rolled on, we hunted out the baked potatoes in their blackened foil wrappers amongst the embers, slathering on layers of butter and cheese. It was a soft evening of quiet laughter and murmured stories gathered around the flames. Somehow a fire creates a communal space in the open air where little needs to be said, sitting comfortably in each other’s presence watching the crackle and sputter.
The weather is looking good for tonight too when we will be heading to the school fireworks display. Organised by my PTA pals, it is always held after the date so as to get the cut-price fireworks left over from other displays. It’s a great occasion for the whole community to gather. The place will be rammed, and the display is guaranteed to be a perfectly choreographed spectacle of high level precision, timed to music. We will ooh and aah, and drop burger relish down our coats, before heading home for bed, smelling of gunpowder.
