Fireworks Night!
Howard Robinson recalls a particularly explosive Guy Fawkes Night…
When November 5th came around, every hamlet and village in the South Wales Valleys would have a bonfire ready for Guy Fawkes Night.
In the weeks before, pocket money would be saved and shop window displays scoured for the latest fireworks. They came in all shapes and sizes – Catherine wheels, bangers, Roman candles, fountains, and, of course, sparklers!
The ‘King Street’ gang had already started collecting crisp brown bracken from the mountainside. We were planning the biggest bonfire ever…
Those children living nearest to the site would now keep a watch out surreptitiously, because even in those days some gangs of children were known to sneak a match to a bonfire, and set it alight. I was staying for a few days at the house of my nan and Aunt Maud; the huge mound was only 15 yards from the front door of Number 9 Graig Terrace.
As the day approached, sacks and women’s nylon stockings were stuffed with bracken to make a ‘guy’ and children would wait at strategic points in the village and ask passers by for ‘a penny for the guy’.
I took a deep breath and blew onto the dull red glow…
Many people ignored us but it usually turned out to be profitable enough.
After dark, two or three children would light the proposed fire from three sides and we stuffed ‘Bangers’ into the crevasses in nearby stonewalls and set them off, blasting away the old lime mortar. I know we should not have done it, but we threw ‘bangers’ at the girls and delighted at their shrieks as they ran away.
I fetched a Roman candle from my nan’s house, pushed it into the soft earth, lit the fuse and moved back a yard or two. The red glow on the end of the fuse was plain to see, as we were away from the brightness of the bonfire. We waited… and we waited. It did not go off. We waited longer still, and then, I did a stupid thing, something that all the books and grownups tell you not to do. Carried away by the excitement of the cold November night, I approached the firework and examined it. I took a deep breath and blew onto the dull red glow… Whoosh! It exploded. I ran to my nan’s, tears mixing with the hot residue on my face.
Dr Mazin arrived as quickly as he was able to and took me in his car to the surgery. Very few people had cars in those days and despite the shock and my injuries it was very exciting to go in one!
Ointment and dressing administered, Dr Mazin took me home to Mam and Dad. I was given an almighty row and then Mam made a fuss of me. My father did exactly the same, with “How many times have I told you never to blow into a firework!” ringing in my ears.
We all make mistakes, our parents warn us but cannot be with us all the time. This was a lucky escape, I was let off lightly, and it taught me a lesson I will never forget!