Bonfire Night

Back in the old days, in the 1950s and 60s when I was growing up, Bonfire Night was always held on the fifth of November. Nowadays it seems to be held on any random day between the 31st October right up until the weekend after the 5th, it’s not like it used to be. The only exception to the rule was if the 5th happened to fall on a Sunday, then our annual bonfire, and nearly every other, would be held on the Saturday. In the first two decades of my life a Sunday 5th only occurred three times, 1950 when I was too young to know about it, 1961 and also 1967, by which time I was 18 anyway and the novelty of constructing the annual bonfire had worn off a little.

I have a cat, Flickr by name, he’s been with me for about eight years and has never been phased by fireworks. However, he’s never had any go off in close proximity to really frighten him. This year my neighbours unexpectedly had a family firework party on 31st October; had I know I would have kept him inside, but it all started without warning and the first fizzy type fireworks were let off. I called the cat who I could see in the garden, but he was far too interested in something that was probably lurking in the bushes to pay heed to me. The next thing one of those enormous expensive jobs was lit with loud crackly sounds and large explosive bangs to follow. That did it, he ran off in the opposite direction to hide. I wasn’t unduly worried as he hadn’t had his evening meal and I knew he’d soon be back.

Later I called for hours, rattled the dry food box, banged the feed dish, tried everything, but no sign of him. By 9.00 I was getting a little anxious and grabbed a torch to go and search, usually that would bring him out of a hiding place and he could be safely rescued, but no, no sight of him at all. Eventually I had to give up and went to bed which was a fitful night’s rest with frequent visits to the back door to call him in. Eventually I was woken by my 6.00 alarm and ventured downstairs and opened the back door, still no sign, I was just going to have to wait until daylight and then go off on a search. I made my coffee and carried it to the back door and there he was, as if nothing had happened. His adventure must have spooked him a little though as he’s been very clingy since, hanging around my feet and wanting my lap and spending hardly any time outdoors since the event.

Enjoy your fireworks everyone, here are links to a couple of old stories of mine so you can wallow in a little of my childhood nostalgia of bonfire night in the 1950s and 60s, Remember, Remember and Remember, Remember . . . again.

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