Remember Remember

Bonfire Night - always a thrill, the anticipation of the fireworks, the loud bangs, the colours, the ooos and the aaahhs. Since working southside I decided to call on southside friends for a good place to head to and Brockwell Park won. The display was ok - we stood on a path (none of that muddy on the hillside thing that it normally becomes) watching what was later described as a female-pleasing display (I think this meant that they stretched them out so we could get the full effect of each type and were designed rather well). I have discovered that I am therefore always more attracted to the male-pleasing idea of getting a load of fireworks together and letting them all off at the same time for maximum boom and colour explosion. Anyway what it lacked in maximum boom it made up for in longevity. Although ML said that he was at the Sydney Olympics Closing Party when the Syndey Harbour Bridge erupted in fireworks and really felt that after that it didn't matter if he ever saw another firework ever again. We sniggered at a man behind us who kept shouting, "Oh YES" over and over like orgasms in movies.





After the display we tootled up the hill to a wacky housing association place called The Quadrangle which was having a bonfire party. The bonfire started out as an amazing man made from wood and ivy with a pumpkin head - an anonymous effigy. There were a few choice fireworks and toasting marshmallows while trying not to get burned - long sticks were found to be necessary. Nothing tastes as great as a marshmallow burnt black on the outside, runny on the inside eaten off a long twig.



A long night of standing around chatting whilst transfixed by the burning embers in the bonfire pit. Marvellous. Reminded me of the first bonfire party I am aware of in my life - held at my nursery school, a huge bonfire in the middle of the grounds surrounded by trees and fallen leaves thick on the ground, potatoes wrapped in foil and baked around the edge of the bonfire, three friends stood round laughing (photographic evidence shows we were all wearing slightly-too-short-flares and mostly had sort of shortish flyaway hair, but it was 1974).