London Calling: fireworks

the fifth of November:

gunpowder, treason and PLOT

Well, we had no Guy, but we had all the other essential ingredients... a bonfire

(albeit in a drum, but in central London that's about as good as you can get), LOADS of fireworks (on which more later), roast lamb with rosemary, roast veges, wine, home-made candied apples (which Juliet's recipe referred to as 'bombs on sticks'), baked rice pudding, and a crowd of about fifteen guests to celebrate with. The night's festivities were intended as a last hurrah for the garden, before winter really sets in (and of course as an excuse for the pyromaniacs amongst us to indulge their weakness for playing with matches, wicks, candles, tapers, exploding things; anything flammable that they could get their hands on, really)...

So! a how-to in words and pictures then (and I hasten to assure any concerned mothers or grandmothers that this is not MY story; no; I was merely a bystander with a camera; this is the story of a pyro who shall remain nameless, but she doesn't live with us ;) )

1. Set up a pipe in the ground, from which to launch rockets. Carefully work out angle of trajectory so that objects launched therefrom will miss overhanging trees (most of garden), house (most of side of garden) and street lights (less important as they don't belong to us ;) ). Reinforce pipe with broken bits of masonry. Ignore worried looks from homeowners.

2. After setting off a few rockets, and watching them go spiralling perfectly into the sky with scorching whooshes, get impatient of having one at a time, and set up a second pipe. Try to light two at a time so that they both go off together.

Comfort homeowners when one hits the guttering, bounces off the bedroom window and plummets back down into the garden. Prohibit curious menfolk from approaching said rocket as it has not yet exploded.

3. Produce, like a conjuring trick, an enormous box-like affair that does not conTAIN fireworks, but is, in fact, one huge firework, which looks as if it could have been part of the original Gunpowder Plot. Set this up under the trees as 'it won't go that high'. Watch as great wads of flaming and sparking material ricochet off the branches above

and shower the cowering crowd below

with ash, cinders and sparks.

4. Laugh (after ascertaining that there were no injuries; clothes can be mended, after all).

5. Produce, from a secret hiding place, another of these which puts the first one to shame. Suggest that this may be better if let off in the open spaces of London Fields (heartfelt and unanimous agreement from crowd), and go to set up. Summon crowds with a whistle; ignite the Mother of All Fireworks (which cannot POSSibly be done justice by photos).