Fireworks Night

The view from out the back of our house is great. Sheffield, like Rome (and erm, Prague and lots of other place) is built on seven hills. We look out over a lot of them. Can't be arsed to count how many as I am always distracted by looking at the clouds, or marvelling that we are pretty much in the city centre and yet it is so green. Anyway...

Bonfire Night, we went to Isabel Berginty's house for food and drink and fireworks and all had a lovely time. Paula and I got ever so slightly freaked out tho, as the kids played really well upstairs, and came downstairs all in their own clothes. Very rare and notable occasion. Hence my noting it.

Anyway, we got back home to see that our position on top of hill number 1 was affording us a great view of everyone else's fireworks, all for free! Also got a (destruction-free) sense of what it might be like to live in an active warzone - explosions going off all around, and the smell of cordite hanging heavy in the air.

Maia and I sat upstairs in the back bedroom with the lights off, oohing and aaaahing at the pretty sparkles. Pat came in for a bit but then, deciding that fireworks are like flying a kite for him (fun idea, boring in practice) left us to it.

We agreed that our most favourists were the "'splodey ones with dust" followed by the ones that were pink and purple. A sparkling night...