Other people’s fireworks…

I suppose it could be viewed as sad that tonight I shall watch other peoples fireworks explode in the night sky all around me and feel not need to join in the fun and frolics. Not so much as a single spark from a sparkler.

There was a time when I would plan my display for weeks in advance, building my bonfire ever higher and higher, carefully considering the best attire for this years Guido, getting the pop bottles lined up for my rockets.

It wasn’t that long ago either.

I don’t know what, when, or where it or I changed. It or I just did.

These days although I still appreciate the spectacle and beauty of the fizzing, whirling, pyrotechnical wonder of it all and seeing the first bright green rocket explode in the black November sky, showering sparks in all directions high above, can still make me smile.

My smile isn’t the one it used to be and it isn't there for the same reasons, but it remains a smile - take it or leave it.

Yes, I’ll watch other people fireworks tonight remembering other bonfire nights when I’d wrap up warm and risk my life and limbs by getting too close to that squibby one that hasn't lit properly. One year I almost lost an eye, another time I picked up a roman candle, shook it to get it going and, BOOM, it exploded.

Ah, the foolishness of twenty-something or other man-boys.

I might even mumble the chant that was forever on my lips at this time of year back then –
Remember remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
Should ever be forgot...

I might, yes I really might.

Other people’s fireworks when I use to have fireworks of my own. I wonder where the sparkle went?