‘Please to remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.’

Do you remember that little rhyme? Even if you don’t, you probably recall the events that were part of our lives whenever the fifth of November came around all those years ago. It was ‘cracker night’ or ‘bonfire night’, or if you were a lucky child, it was both rolled into one. As children we knew it had another name, Guy Fawkes Day, but the significance of that man’s role in our celebrations was immaterial to us. The fact that he had been arrested on 5th November 1605 guarding a cache of explosives in the hope of destroying the House of Lords was interesting, but the religious and political overtones to the event were easily dismissed as we planned our celebration.

It is amazing to realise that up until the early sixties a huge range of potentially lethal explosive devices was sold quite readily to children of all ages in shops and stores all over town. Our family’s source of supply came from Penneys Store in Lutwyche Road at Windsor. Penny bungers, tom thumbs, skyrockets, catherine wheels and roman candles were readily available across the counter to any youngster with the requisite few shillings. No questions were asked in that innocent and trusting age!

What followed from early evening on the fifth of November was the loudest, worst polluted, most dangerous night of the year, but undoubtedly the most fun – if you were a kid. Of course, this would all be spoiled if an early summer Brisbane storm were to hit, as was often the case. The precious bonfire would be saturated and of little use to anyone, but hopefully the all-important fireworks could be stored away until suitable weather prevailed again.

The real and present element of danger only added to the appeal and the excitement. True, it was a busy night for the hospitals with burns to fingers and faces quite common, and busy too for the fire brigade answering calls to save houses and bushland threatened with destruction at a time when much of the city remained dry after a winter with little rain. And heaven help any pet owner who had not tethered a nervous animal beforehand. I remember one neighbourhood dog being so traumatised that it escaped into the night never to be seen again.

However, most of us revelled in the sheer joy of unleashing brilliant light and thunderous noise into the atmosphere. Little children could be satisfied with throwdowns and sparklers, but for anyone over eight the challenge was to be in the midst of continuous action, lighting and throwing and screaming and ‘ooh’-ing while making the fun last for as long as possible. Eventually, however, it was all over, and we headed for bed with the suburban atmosphere, as well as our skin and hair, reeking with the smell of gunpowder.

Morning came, and with it the scouring of the backyard to rescue any unexploded bungers that may have been left in the dark. Meanwhile our parents’ attention was focused on the front yard, just to make sure that the letterbox had survived unscathed.

Michael Goodwin