Bonfire night

I didn’t see any bonfires. They’re all caged in now. Full page advertisements in the newspapers and ads on the telly—I’m not sure who they are aimed at—featuring quite a pretty girl dressed as a firewoman tell us they are dangerous and take fire-fighters away from essential services. Wow. I never knew that.  Kids must be thinking firemen should be sitting with their feet up sipping latte on Bonfire night. I may be wrong, but I don’t think kids bother with Bonfire night now. For my generation it was a rite of passage. I tried capturing a little of what it meant here: http://www.abctales.com/story/celticman/bonfire-night2

Now Bonfire night more than Christmas or New Year means one thing to me—another year has passed. I stand upstairs and look over the roofs at the shape-shifting cloud bursts of pyrotechnical colours that slows down time and lights up the sky. There’s tens of thousands of council tax payers' money being spent on a fragile beauty. I’m old and wise enough to appreciate it. Another year has gone, snuffed out. Winter is upon us.