A Bonfire of the Flesh - Kathleen Jones
Today is traditionally 'Bonfire Night', or 'Guy Fawkes Day', when there are bonfires in fields and back gardens and we let off fireworks and bake potatoes in the embers. I have lovely childhood memories of family parties on the farm. My father would kill a chicken and my mother would cook up a big roast dinner. We saved up for weeks to buy fireworks from the village shop - Bangers and Silver Fountains, Roman Candles, Rockets in milk bottles, and Catherine Wheels that we nailed to the fence. My brother liked the Jumping Jacks that sprang about with a bang and a snap - that is until one of them landed in the biscuit tin he'd kept his fireworks in and they all lit up and went off at once. I remember running from a rocket that had a horizontal trajectory across the stack-yard, and my father had to pour a bucket of water on another Jumper that landed in the hay. We had no sense of danger in those days. The only thing that made me feel uncomfortable was the Guy....