Standing in a muddy field, watching fireworks on a cold, damp November evening is not quite the same as sitting on a waterfront in July as the sky dazzles.
I paid my £8 last Saturday and tried not to freeze as the early children's fireworks went off, blowing smoke directly into everyone attending. Then, great anticipation as the two-to-three storey high bonfire was lit, with a mock Guy Fawkes in a chair at the top.
More smoke. Lots of smoke for about five minutes as the damp wood refused to burn. Finally, the fire wizards got the bonfire to start to quiet cheers and handclaps.
The big fireworks display was still 45 minutes away and I faced a half hour's walk home, so I decided to leave and possibly watch them on my walk back. I was shocked to see that in the time I had been there (little more than an hour) the crowds had quadrupled, so that there was little empty space in Coopers Field behind the Castle. Literally hundreds of people stood in lines zigzagging across the width of the field waiting at the fast food outlets.
At the entrances to the park, hundreds more approached, with lines more than a block long and four-to-five people thick. I was glad I was leaving and have no idea where all those people were going to stand.
Imagine the Detroit-Windsor Fireworks with paid admission and everyone arriving within half an hour of the show ... hard to imagine. Walking home I faced groups of ten and twenty walking towards Coopers Field and definitely felt as if I were going against the tide.
I'm assuming there must be a great deal of emotional attachment to this cold, November tradition that as a visitor is lost on me. Guy Fawkes/Bonfire night necessities: Good dry wellies and lots of woolen accessories.
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