As much as I look at myself now and think "Ye Gods, how can you be so serious at the age of 25 (nearly 26)?", I still have a child-like streak a mile wide. So when Bonfire Night looms large on the calendar, I still feel a twinge of excitement. Yet still the rational, serious part of my mind surfaces.
Amongst the oohing and aahing, my mind often wanders to such thoughts as "They're burning money!" and "I could have paid my debts off with a couple of those rockets and a standard catherine wheel". All part of getting older I suppose.
However, the inner child wins through in the end. It never fails and it's all genetic. Were you ever to meet my father you'd never suspect he was an ex company director not too many years from his 60th birthday. His constant lunacy is the glue that has held our family together through rough times. I often say to him "You will let us know when you lose your marbles wont you? Because no-one is going to notice!" Many's the time I've used one of his concocted words in everyday conversation and gotten sidelong looks from the assembled populous. He really should write children's books. He'd be the next JK Rowling.
Fireworks this year were provided by the London Borough of Clapham on Wednesday night (for free) which were spectacular and Kingston Rotary Club last night (£3 a head) which after Clapham seemed mediocre. Still, the latter puts money into good causes, so that's fair enough. Innovations in fireworks this year seem to be rockets that explode, ejecting a swarm of firefly-like objects that whizz off in Brownian fashion. Quite remarkable.
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