Oh Bonfire Night how I love thee. So much that I will consider venturing out into the dark alone with three children, risking losing at least one, maiming a couple and parting with a pocket-full of silver just to hear some bangs and fizzing whistles.
But it’s worth it isn’t it? Worth the headlock manouevre to persuade the 6yo that yes she does want to put her coat on, and keep her coat on, and will she please stop undoing the zip in this weather?
It’s worth spending £2 on blue candyfloss and £3 apiece on three lightsabers that last approximately 20 minutes (two if you allow them to make physical contact with anything) and £1.50 on a hotdog with onions is an absolute bargain as far as I’m concerned – yes London dwellers, I said £1.50 – I suggest you all hotfoot it to the sticks next year, it’s where all the best firework action is at.
And yes, after the first drum-popping rocket went off the 5yo begged to go home, and yes I did have to have eyes everywhere to ensure that I didn’t accidentally lose a child, and yes I’m pretty sure that there would have been a temper tantrum at some point, but actually it was lovely, especially the bit where we came home, drank hot chocolate and watched X-factor (yes, despite my proclamations that we were well and truly over).
The 6yo thinks that Frankie is the coolest thing ever.
The 6yo is never leaving the house with a boy, ever….