Bonfire Night

The Diary of a Not So Ordinary Boy

I love Bonfire Night.  Give me fireworks over Hallowe’en any day.  When I was a student there wasn’t a fire, but we used to go down to watch the fireworks shooting out of Clifford’s Tower with the sort of thump you could feel deep down in your chest, but my love affair with all things sparkly started much earlier.  When I was a child, growing up in rural Devon, I never went to the sort of community show that was put on for the citizens of York in the 1990s.  Back then, I was lucky if I got a sparkler (you had to be standing behind the rope, next to the Village Hall Steps and be visibly little for one of those), but even so, the night was full of almost uncontainable, fizzy excitement.

Back when I was a child, my dad was on the Fireworks Committee.  He used to…

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