We went to a free fireworks display last night.
From a gaggling throng of chatting adults, playing kids, merry go rounds and fire-huddlers, a single rocket said, "foomf", soared into the air and exploded, "BANG!" into a shower of golden stars. Everyone screamed. What a start.
The rest of the show continued as one would expect a pretty decent fireworks display to go on with only one other highlight. What's the best bit of every children's nativity play? The bit where it goes wrong.
As the show increased in height and intensity towards its inevitable big finish, rockets again soared up into the warm November air - 50m? 70m? 100m? Squee, boom. Squee, boom, stars, "ooooh" said the crowd.
Then Squeeeeee! The feint blaze of a high-altitude rocket skewed sideways. What was wrong with it? Projected like a damp squid, its tail dying out like a spent comet. Did someone set it off through the wet nettles? Did the box get rained on earlier. Squeeeelch. Nothing.
"ahhh" said the crowd.
The rocket only made it 20m off the ground and no one really thought it was viable then, "BOOM!"
Screaming. Laughing. As pink and golden stars bounced off the ground. Everyone was deaf. Everyone was happy.
What a night out Sheffield. Thank you.
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