It’s that time of the year again! Bangs, whistles; shock and awe in the heavens above. Whooshes of rockets with fiery trails and at their zenith exploding into balls of twinkling colours. As I stood there tonight at Weston sea front, watching this out- burst of infinite multi-coloured patterns in space; I reminisce. As a child of the 50’s, living in the South Wales valleys with my mum and sis in a council prefab, our bonfire night display came out of a Standards or Brocks fireworks box. Mum would marshal us away from the danger area and then use her ciggy to light the blue touch papers of our precious collection. Firstly the rockets were launched from the milk bottle. Then the Roman candle, volcano, Katherine wheel, ‘Mighty Atom’ bangers. Sis and I conducted the whole repertoire as if it was a heavenly orchestra with our sparkler wands. And the grand finale came with the Jumping Jack. It snaked, snapped and wriggled, driving us all to the warmth of the kitchen where a hot broth awaited us. Ah, those were the days!