I love fireworks, the bigger the better, and I particularly like setting them off. I even hitched my wedding dress up and let them off at our wedding. I was really lucky this weekend to get invited to a firework party, and to go to a big bonfire. 30 years ago on bonfire night two good friends of ours moved to Sheffield, bringing with them a carefully wrapped rocket to set off when they got here. So, on bonfire night 30 years later they had a celebration, asking everyone to bring a firework or rocket. The food was excellent, the company great fun, and I got to help set the huge amount of rockets and fireworks off. Luckily they have a big garden. But it does have a number of very mature trees through which we tried to angle the rockets. We only failed on three occasions and they either came crashing back to earth or blew up in the tree. Luckily no damage was done, although we did run, jump and swear a couple of times.
Then on Saturday we went to Chatsworth bonfire. Some friends who live nearby invited to eat there first, so didn't have far to drive, but the traffic was horrendous when we got close. We decide to park by the estate house and walk through the park to the house. Very exciting in the pitch dark, and made even more so by our encounter with a herd of deer, with the stags' antlers silhouetted on the skyline. The bonfire was huge, and I didn't get burned this year - last year a spark landed on me and burnt through 3 layers of clothing and I only realised when my bra started smouldering.
We queued for ages for a glass of mulled wine, and decided next year we'd take our own, but that was made up for by the firework display which was fantastic. Some great ones that landed and burnt on the lake, and others which had small parachute type sparks floating down.
Then home to finish packing, and up early on Sunday morning to drive to Heathrow. We always try and get away in the autumn, usually to either Tenerife or the Balearic Islands, but this year when we booked the apartment for November, I hadn't realised that many airlines had stopped flying at the end of October. I couldn't find a single direct flight to Menorca. The only option was to drive to Heathrow, fly to Madrid and then to Mahon. Now, I don't like flying. I especially don't like taking off, and turbulence just makes me think I'm going to die. So, I wasn't too happy that I had to take off twice, and both flights were very bumpy. The first one had the captain tell us not to worry, and the second one was such a small plane I thought it was going to fall to pieces. It also dropped several times. Good job it was Stu sitting next to me as I tend to grab the person next to me, no matter who they are. I once spent a whole flight from Belfast to Sheffield grasping the knee of the random man sitting next to me. Anyway, we got here. Picked up the car and drove the 30 minutes to the airport, in the rain! Reception was closed because it was gone 2300 when we got here so we had to phone the emergency receptionist to let us in. Luckily we'd had the foresight to pick up a couple of bottles of duty free so could at least have a quick drink before bed, together with a couple of fried eggs on toast which was the only thing we'd eaten all day except for a couple of airline sandwiches.
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