Interval: Fireworks

We went to the fireworks in Herongate. They were banging out the Prodigy and people were waving glowing things and it was like walking into a rave. The fireworks themselves were accompanied by murky ambient music, although it could have been Westlife played through a bad sound system, I suppose. Or, to put it another way, a good sound system.

The fireworks fizzed and corkscrewed through the night; they reached up to the sky with wavering ectoplasmic fingers. A tree caught fire - always the sign of a good cutting-edge display. Then suddenly it was all over. People were rushing to the exits - so fast it was like someone had shouted 'Fire!' - leaving the hardcore few to dance naked around the flames.

We went back to Justin and Bobs' for hot dogs. Mat, chewing on one with a thoughtful expression, looked, I thought, like Sherlock Holmes eating his pipe. Later, Christopher went into meltdown over a missing cardboard 'crown' (these had been handed out to kids at the display). It was quite a performance, and we stared as though Larry Olivier had suddenly materialised in front of us to show us his Lear - an absurdist King Lear, whose tawdry crown featured the face of Shane Richie promoting his upcoming appearance in Aladdin. The letters of 'Aladdin' were made up of what I imagine were meant to be fragments of gold, but which looked more like oven chips.

For a moment it did seem that nobody would be allowed to leave until Mat had pontificated over The Case Of The Vanishing Promotional Piece of Tat With A Picture Of Shane Richie On It, all the while sucking reflectively on his hot dog. Then the natural order of things reasserted itself and Christopher was dragged off screaming into the night.