2004-11-11 - 5:30 p.m.

I went to a fireworks display on Saturday night.

I don�t know what I expected - other than coloured explosives, obviously � because I can�t remember what they used to be like when I was young. Why would you remember anything other than the fireworks? What space is there in the six-year-old brain for things like whether or not there was ample free parking or whether they provided sufficiently well-signed meeting points when what really matters is that things went FRRRRAAAAP! and SSSEEEEOOOOFFFFF! into the crisp night air?

Now, with the disadvantage of maturity, I was able to take in the surroundings whilst my jaded veil of ironic distance did battle with my secret yearning for lost innocence and wide-eyed escapism. You might question whether a veil can actually a) be jaded and b) go into battle, but I would point out that it a) might be bejewelled in jade and b) form part of the helmet on a suit of armour, so ner. And now that you have a picture of me attending a fireworks display in semi-precious stone-encrusted armour.

It was a bigger event than I would have expected, had I got round to expecting anything. There was a funfair. There was an entrance fee. There were people in orange jackets. There were groups of youths whose jade veils of ironic distance did battle with their secret yearning for lost innocence and wide-eyed escapism. You know, you can just tell.

The programme was: 7.30 Bonfire, 8.00 Fireworks. Before the fireworks we were treated to a selection of 80�s hits over the PA. Normally it�s not music to which I would pay great attention, but standing and waiting in a dark park in light drizzle somehow forces you reappraise the cultural value of Shakin� Stevens �This Ol� House� and the emotive import of �Mickey� by choreography�s Toni Basil. There were metal fences around the main area where the bonfire was to be lit. Many people had arrived early to take up a prime position at this fence. How extraordinary than in the age of DVD, the I-pod and that driving game on the Playstation, people should jostle in the rain for the best view of a fire. I mean even for Neolithic man, the initial excitement attendant on the act of combustion must have paled fairly rapidly. �Off out tonight, Ugg?� �Yeah, Graham�s doing a fire. I want to get a front row rock. You coming?� �No, once you�ve seen line on wall line on wall line on wall line on wall line on wall line on wall fires, you�ve seen them all. I think I�ll stay in and fashion a rudimentary jerkin out of hide.� But apparently for the people of Ravenscourt Park, fire is still a big draw. I mean if we�d been in Bethnal Green I�d�ve understood it.

NB: You probably take umbrage at the second caveman being named Graham and think it more likely that he would have been named Ogg. After all, all pairs of cavemen are called Ugg and Ogg, aren�t they? That�s what your �history� books say. That�s what �they� always told you. Yeah, right. For goodness� sake, when are you sheep going to wake up and start questioning the world around you?

So, the bonfire was lit and burned and was faintly pagan, and I saw striking silhouettes of people against the fire, including a small child on her father�s shoulders, wreathed in innocence and wide-eyed escapism, still several years from donning the jaded veil of ironic distance, which will probably stink a bit by the time she gets it, since it�s dry clean only and frankly who�s going to bother, the number of times it gets used?

8�o�clock came and went. No fireworks. The combination of more rain and �Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go� was almost enough to tip the crowd over into a damp, baying, burning stick-wielding mob, but in the nick of time the display began. It was great. I tried to take photos of it on my phone, which of course is the second most pointless activity known to mankind. The most pointless being doing the same thing, but when your phone doesn�t have a camera.

They took off the 80�s CD when the fireworks were on and played music they felt more appropriate. Having this soundtrack was interesting as each piece of music did indeed colour the mood as we watched the display. They had the Star Wars theme of course. And that �Woo-Hoo� song by the 5,6,7,8�s, which was an unexpected but quite good choice, giving the fireworks a slightly raucous feel. They had the Harry Potter theme on too, which injected a kind of magic and mystery into that part of the display. But then they put the James Bond theme on, which was shit. It just doesn�t work. There�s nothing fireworky about the James Bond theme. The spell had been broken so we decided to move a bit nearer the exit to avoid the inevitable crush once the display was over. On the way out, they put on The Gladiator theme, complete with Russell Crowe going �On my signal, unleash Hell�. Yeah. That�s it Hammersmith Council, give the kiddies nightmares. Nice one.

We didn�t get to the exit in time to avoid the crush. Well, have you ever tried walking through mud in bejewelled armour?

MOUSEMILK�S LIST OF THE DAY
Top 5 firework noises:
1. Sheeeooooouuuuuuuuufff...KA!
2. FFFFFFFFFFffffffffffffff
3. Whoot whoot whoot whoot whoot
4. Cracklacklacklacklack!
5. ...Doomf!

Profilage - Previosity - Nextitude