I love bonfire night. Yes, I know, it's 3rd not 5th but tonight's the night the local pyrotechnicians get their high visibility jackets on and terrify the local wildlife whilst delighting middle-aged firework junkies like myself.
I've always loved a nice display. I used to drag G to the bonfire on Blackheath every year, without fail, even the year we had a 4 week old baby to deal with. It was an obsession.
There has been an unfortunate devlopment over the last few years of having fireworks in the garden. This seems to me to be anti-social and always a little bit of a let-down, you just can't go 'oooh' over a catherine wheel nailed to the slide. It's not the same as huge spider lights flying around in the deep blue sky. And, anyway, I had fireworks for my birthday and very good they were too. So, we're off to one of the nearby villages to work on our chillblains and say 'aahhh'.
My broadband issues have not been resolved. My very good friend R spent halloween talking me through the process very slowly over the phone. I think he might actually come over and help me tomorrow although I daren't phone as I know I must have been very annoying and if you're an IT whizz, the last thing you need when you're home from working on some swanky programme is to spend the evening talking to a luddite like me. I only like computers if they do what they say they're going to. It's the same way I've always felt about men.