Sorry that the below post is late. When I signed up for #BEDN I didn’t realise I was going to get struck down by a rotten snotty bug and spend two days off work asleep. But even though I haven’t blogged everyday, I still want to make an attempt at each topic, so here we go!

Bonfire night.


I like fireworks. I was about to say love fireworks but I’m not sure my feelings are that strong. Yes they are pretty and enjoyable but I’m not sure I would be devastated never to see them again. That being said, I do enjoy them a lot.


This year, bonfire night fell on a Thursday. A school night so the big local display wasn’t actually on the day but from my poorly bed I could hear lots of people letting off their own fireworks. At one point I tried to look out of the window for them but I couldn’t see a thing, so I imagined them instead in my sudafed, half dreamy state.


When I was little we used to get those nice garden fireworks. You know, fountains and Catherine wheels and sparklers. Not those big ones. Just a nice little display that we could all bundle up and enjoy. Nothing too crazy.



I know you all know this, but fireworks are dangerous and you need to play safe. And when I say play, I mean DO NOT PLAY AROUND THESE ARE SERIOUS EXPLOSIVES THAT CAN HURT.



So, back to when I was younger. I’m not sure how young but it was late primary school I think so maybe about 9ish? Anyway, that year, one of my uncles hosted a bonfire night party. It was a big family gathering with everyone getting together and having a good time.

The two things I can remember from that party were there was a jelly in the shape of a rabbit and my dad and I got hit by a firework. I’m not 100% sure about the rabbit jelly.

There had been several fireworks up to this point, but he had saved the biggest and bestest one for last. I decided I wanted to see it. My dad bundled me up and we stood next to house as my uncle carefully set up the firework at the end of the garden.


I had my hands over my ears.

My dad had his hands over my hands.

The firework was lit.

The firework fell.

The firework flew.

The firework hit us.



Next thing I know is all my aunties and my mum and everyone is pouring jugs of water over my head. And then someone decides that is impractical and I am taken upstairs to have my head shoved under the shower. It hurt. I think it was a power shower. I’m not sure.


I don’t know what happened to my dad. I’ve never really asked. I think he got smacked up against the wall but he seemed to be okay when he drove us back home early from the party. I think we had borrowed a blanket because I was shivering from all the cold water.


My uncle was distraught apparently. But it wasn’t his fault. He is a sensible, grown up man who was just trying to have a good time with his family. He did everything properly. It was one of those things. And I still enjoy fireworks. Especially those big ones that light up the sky. But I’ll probably just stick to sparklers in my own garden and leave the big ones to the professionals in the park. Not even because I am scared. I’m not. It’s just less hassle.


Love Charlotte x