Remember Remember the 5th of November...

Remember Remember the 5th November,

Fireworks, apples and gloves. 

So this is why, the lights in the sky

Have become one of my favourite loves...

Last week was Bonfire Night, one of my favourite nights of the year. Unfortunately I had a puking condition that meant I couldn't leave the house so I missed it. But no worry everyone, I sure made up for it the following Friday at the Bonfire that happens at work each year. More about that later...

BANG! WHEEE! WHIZZ! SHCREEEEEE!

When I was a teeny weeny Hannan, I hated loud things, and things that gave me a fright, and so Bonfire Night was a nightmare for me. I remember going to Lancaster Firework show for a few years in a row and sitting on Optimus Dad's shoulders with my fingers crammed in my ears, trying to enjoy the pretty colours. I'd look around at people so I could see what their faces looked like and then I could copy their delight, thus fooling my family who would look at me and say "Nyawwww, look at Hannan having a wonderful time!" Not so much....

As I grew a bit more grown up I began to enjoy Fireworks a bit more, even going as far as genuinely smiling when they whizzed up into the sky, but still with fingers crammed firmly into ears. I'd partake in a toffee apple, a bit of that black toffee and maybe a hot dog but constantly on guard for the tell tale 'phut' sound of a banger being let off or the 'wheeeeeeee' just before the explosion.

Once at a small Bonfire party in my friend's garden, one of the fireworks fell over just after it had been lit and shot towards us all! My Dad, the incredible Optimus Dad, stepped on the firework and trapped it onto the ground so that it exploded UNDER HIS FOOT! What a hero! And even better, it turned out, was that it was a perfectly timed accident! He just happened to put his foot down on a firework as it exploded, thus saving us all. Hurray!

Fireworks do freak me out though. I don't like the idea that they're sitting there, waiting in that box, their tummies filled up with explosives. I know not if they realise their fate whilst they sit smiling in the shops, looking so pretty, and (now don't laugh) I almost feel bad for them as they shoot up with their long bums on fire and explode in the sky whilst people below admire their executions with 'ooooh's and 'ahhhhhhh's. A bit sick if you ask me.

I got over this on Friday though, and had a wonderful time. I had a tasty hot dog and held hands with The Boy as we watched the beautiful display of explosions. He kept warning me that he saw an episode of '999' once where a child got a firework in the eye, and so whenever anything touched his face, like a leaf, or my hair, or the wind, we had to deal with "Oh, OH, a FIREWORK has gone into my EYE!" The romantic exerience was also slightly marred by The Boy's less than animated commentary of the entire show.

[Imagine the following said in a low, droning, monotone voice because he was cold and tired]

"Yeah I like them ones...they're blue so I like them...And that one was quite good but it wasn't blue. Those one's make a noise. Those one's are big aren't they, that one was blue...I liked it. I like the ones that crackle...although they're not blue. I can see blue best of all..."

And so on. However, despite the cold, and the commentary, and the lack of toffee apples (grrrr) and the constant reassurance that "No fireworks have gone in your eye, The Boy...." I had a great night and there was no one else I'd rather have spent the evening with than him.

(And I didn't put my fingers in my ear once...!)

Hope you all had a safe and happy Bonfire Night and remember, NEVER play with gunpowder. Or you'll end up like Guy Fawkes.

Love Hannan xoxo