nimbus2

My keenest memories of Guy Fawkes Night and the wonders of fireworks go back to the late 1960s and early 70s. Late one October, when I was about 8 years old, I remember my dad escorting me (or was it the other way around!) into a local sports shop where there was a glass display cabinet filled with skyrockets, fountains, Catherine wheels, roman candles, boxes of bangers and jumping jacks - just to name the basics.

My eyes stood out on stalks as I gazed lovingly at these magical objects and I tugged at dad's elbow as I pointed at every one. After much discussion with the proprietor, and an exchange of what was probably a painful chunk of cash, dad bundled up our purchases and escorted me home, reminding me that "now these fireworks are for the fifth of November - we'll keep them somewhere safe and dry until then".

I don't think I slept at all for days because all I could think about were the fireworks we had set aside for the Big Night. Dad let me look at them a few times and I remember feeling awe at holding a heavy skyrocket with a stick that was taller than I was. We had bangers too - what I remember were called "Boom". After a lot of pleading I persuaded dad to let one off in the garden, a few days before the fifth. The blue touch paper sizzled, orange sparks spluttered to life and several seconds later there was a resounding bang. It was an incredibly thrilling thing to see.

As the smoke cleared I looked for the expired banger and minutes later I triumphantly brought a ruptured "Boom" into the living room where dad had sat down to read the newspaper. "Look dad!" I said, "It's split in two. That was a great banger! Can we do another one?" Dad looked at me over the top of his newspaper. I knew the answer was no before he said anything. More memories to follow - this is my first time on the forum.