Guy Fawkes Night at East Stoke

I've always loved fireworks - my heart rejoices when I see the fiery trail of a rocket - I shudder with joy when I see its green and blue stars arc across the night sky - I relish the gunpowder smell of used Roman Candles - my fingers shake when I strike a match to light the blue touch paper -

When I was a boy, my mum and dad would set up the fireworks - they'd make the sky magic over Palmyra Road - with my brother, Nick, I would clutch sparklers - I wanted the bright sizzling sparks to last forever -

I can remember standing around a huge spooky bonfire in Kent - we'd gulped down magic mushrooms half an hour or so before - we came up as the flames tore up the wood of the bonfire - the first salvo of noble rockets blazed into the sky -

I thought the dark figures outlined against the yellow flames had stepped out of a painting by Breugel - they swarmed around the fire, with lumpy bodies and faces -

In 2011, we celebrated Guy Fawkes Night with Sophie and Tessa - they were partying elsewhere in 2012 - yellowy white plumes of fire spilled gently out of the fountains - sparklers crackled with electric light like wands in our hands - rockets sighed into the air, high over the apple tree -

When I looked into our house, from outside in the dark, it looked like a stage set, or a portion of a dream - poignant and strange - who were the people who lived  there?