General

I loved bonfire night ever bit as much as Christmas, perhaps more. It was a wild night in all the best ways. It was fun and freedom, excitement and adventure. My Dad would have spent the year throwing sticks and wood onto a pile in the back garden. Come the 5th of November it was veritable mountain in the eyes of us children. He'd set it ablaze with a homemade guy on top. It lit up the night, warming hands and faces. Upon it we'd throw potatoes wrapped in tin foil to eat later with baked beans. I never went camping, or had a camp fire, but I reckon that bonfire topped them all. Then there were the fireworks, our very own display! We weren't rich by any stretch of the imagination, but I guess you find the money for things you really care about. Dad loved bonfire night. He was the biggest kid of us all.

General

Bonfire night 1984, I was nine years old. November 5th was reliably cold, yet as always our bonfire was reliably warm, sending glorious sparks into the starry black, tumbling upward as if their destiny called.

General

The wood for our bonfire night came from the floor of the woodland, clearing it for new growth, helping the mature trees to thrive.

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Bonfire night was the best night of the year, far better than halloween or Christmas. We had a real fire in the back garden, a mountain of flame, and we got to play outside as if we fire-imps.