As I was walking back into town on Saturday night I found myself considering my attitude towards fireworks. I say walking back as I’d made the journey not 20 minutes before, but I’d barely got myself settled with a warming pint of Bateman’s Salem Porter when I had a nagging doubt that I’d left the iron on.
Visions of my house turning into a hellish inferno took over my mind to such an extent that I decided that I had no choice but to head back home and check.
Unsurprisingly I’d done no such thing and the iron, unplugged and stone cold, sat on the ironing board mocking me and so I made my way back through the wind and rain to the comfort and warmth of the pub.
On my way home I heard the pops and crackles of fireworks from a local display and occasionally caught sight of a burst of colour, mostly pinks and greens, above the trees and rooftops. It brought to mind a conversation that I’d had just a couple of days before when I had my hair cut.
Whilst discussing the issues of the day, the hairdresser (not a barber you’ll note, I’m so metrosexual) told me that she was going to be going to a firework display nearby as she had apparentlydone for time immemorial. She asked if I was going to a similar eisteddfod of pyrotechnic wizardry and I told her that I wasn’t.
She seemed somewhat taken aback at this response and enquired whether I didn’t like fireworks. I went to answer but my brain hit control-alt-delete and I realised that I had no answer to the question. I don’t dislike fireworks, I’ve been to firework displays in the past, plenty of them, but equally I don’t seek them out as the basis for a night out. If they occur incidentally to whatever is going on then all to the good.
In essence I realised that I was indifferent to fireworks, or possibly ambivalent. In fact the latter indecision of whether I was indifferent or ambivalent kept my mind occupied until I returned to my pint, whereupon I instantly forgot my concerns and focussed on which Halloween themed ale I was going to try next. For the main part I stuck with the Porter as it brought me the greatest satisfaction on the drinking front, but I digress.
What it made me realise was that some people really like fireworks. Maybe it’s the inner child that enjoys explosionsand bright colours but, to me as I get older, firework displays mostly lead to disappointment as unless you’ve thrown a ton of money at it equivalent to the national debt of Greece you’re going to get something pleasant but unimpressive.
Let’s be honest, the firework industry hasn’t really evolved since we were all knee high to a grasshopper. My expectations may be, quite literally, sky high but imagine if fireworks could explode and create, oh I don’t know, animal shapes like rabbits, and dogs, and kangaroos, or if they lit up the night sky in such a way that for a few brief seconds we saw famousworks of art like the Mona Lisa or The Haywain hanging magically in the air? Now that would be quite something.
Perhaps I’m wishing for the impossible but there must be someone out there who’s willing to have crack at it? I’m telling you, firework art, it’s the future.
