Fireworks

Fireworks night has always been a special occasion for Nigel and I. Forty  years ago we spent it apart. At that point, Nigel and I were good friends but he was considering whether to ask me out or not. 

The reason for his hesitation, he told me later, was that he had a conviction that if he asked me out, he would someday marry me. 

Having missed the municipal display at Cambridge that year, we vowed not to miss one again. 

In our forty years together we have been to some spectaculars at Saltburn Park, the Tyne Bridge and Verulamium Park. We love to oooh and aaah.

A memorable one was Dove Holes in Derbyshire where the amateur pyrotechnician decided to set off the fireworks one at a time leading to a display that was very long indeed but at no point spectacular. We left before the end.

This year, we shunned our usual display at Verulamium to attend Alexandra Palace with Perran, Carenza and friends. 

How did it go? Carenza felt there had been a lack of communal oohs and aaahs.

However, the fireworks coordinated brilliantly with the music.   And at the end their was a man dancing on a podium with lightning coming out of his head. 

But even that was not as special as the fact that I spent the evening with Nigel.