MORNING SERIAL

IT fizzed angrily but remained entirely stationary on its post until, at last, it broke completely loose, bounced on the ground and hurtled off at ankle height, away from the crowd, mercifully enough, and in the direction of the river. It hit the water at high speed, where it steamed and bubbled for an age until it finally succumbed and was swallowed by the wet and the dark. We stood on the riverbank and cheered. That could not possibly have gone any better, I thought, far better than just spinning on a post.

The supply of fireworks was soon exhausted and so we turned our attention back to the bonfire and we grew calmer as we all stared into the flames, watching as the fire collapsed in slow stages, each time sending another flurry of sparks upward into the night. The grown-ups passed round plastic cups of soup poured from Thermos flasks, and we scoured the ground for burned-out firework casings that we prodded with sticks. Later, when the fire had burned down a little more, we tried to roast potatoes wrapped in foil amongst the embers. It never worked. They were always scorched on the outside and raw in the middle.

We had built our bonfire on the derelict land next to Dickie Rees’ breeze block factory, and we could see across the valley to the tram road in Merthyr Vale where their bigger, better bonfire was burning away. We could see up to Bryn Taff too, where the flames from their truly enormous edifice shot into the sky higher than the three-storey backs of the houses. Their bonfire was, after all, bigger than a house to begin with. Bryn Taff always managed to pinch more fuel than anyone else.

That night I went to sleep still able to smell the metallic smoke of the sparklers which I had waved against the dark, and with the aftertaste of tinned vegetable soup still in my mouth. I dreamed of our entire valley top to bottom, dotted with bonfires defying the night.

The days grew shorter yet and in the run-up to Christmas we made, at school, cardboard cutout, life-sized figures of the characters in the Nativity story. I helped make the donkey that carried Mary to Bethlehem.