I couldn’t let it go, despite going to Westcott Bonfire last weekend, that was October. I feel obliged to celebrate actual Bonfire night somehow, it is a Saturday and November 5th after all.... What was I thinking? I know, I’ll just put the kids in the car and just pop up to Box Hill and watch the Brockham firework display. Lovely – we’ll see all the pretty lights over Dorking, not too bangy and get home, putting them all to bed only a little later than usual. Great idea.
Rachel, having initially decided very forcefully that she wanted to stay at Granny’s house, jumped on the band wagon as we were going out the door.
‘I’ll come, I come, I coming’ she announces, piling in the car in dressing gown and slippers. We all set off, whereupon she promptly fell asleep.
We queued for ages for the car park, while I anxiously checked the time, I’m sure it starts at eight, we’re going to pay three quid to park and then miss it. As I unloaded the children, it dawned on me how inadequately prepared I was – no torch and no buggy for starters.
We joined the throng of people descending on the viewpoint and Ben led us to his perfect spot from where to watch, via the steepest slope available. We all sat down on the grass there (I hadn’t thought to bring a rug either) and waited...and waited.
‘Can we have sparklers?’ asks one of the children. ‘No,’ I reply ‘I haven’t got any, and anyway we did all that last Saturday.’
We sat a bit more. Sporadically, we saw four or five little pops and flashes of colour, pitiful really, then nothing.
Patrick says ‘Mummy, since we’ve been here I can smell sausages, can we get some?’
‘Well we could,’ I reply ‘but I left my money in the car.’
Ben says ‘You can go back and get it- we can look after ourselves’ Emilia adds helpfully ‘you can take Rachel .‘
Oh that is ok then, I can carry that sack of potatoes to and from the car park, get some cash and probably to fail to find my remaining children on my return. They seemed to be dressed in the darkest clothes possible- I could barely see them when they were standing in front of me. I ruled that out straightaway.
To be fair to them, sausages was a legitimate request as I had failed to cook them a proper tea. Granny had stuffed them up with toast, buns, biscuit and cereal all afternoon while we worked together on Emilia’s Viking Costume. I reasoned they’d eaten enough but they like their routine and don’t easily let me forget if I’ve done them out of a meal.
Anyway, they accepted my point and Ben and Emilia proceeded to play hide and seek....- in the dark- I ask you? Last Saturday night, Ben had perfected the skill of commando style stalking us on our walk back through the Nower. That time we did have torches (Mark being in charge, he also had a flask of hot chocolate for the children, beer for the adults, a large box of yum, yums, sparklers, fireworks at home afterwards and enough money for those wretched glow sticks – I am such an amateur in comparison.)
We would periodically flash the torch around to check Ben was still with us. As soon as the light picked him up he would hit the deck sharpish to camouflage himself in the long grass, or grab a branch and pretend to be a tree, hide in a ditch or flatten himself against a wall. Today, however he contented himself lurking in the shadows or hiding behind the three of us in order to outwit Emilia.
Luckily, the Brockham display kicked off and they were temporarily distracted, until that is, they discovered that our water bottle was missing, presumably having rolled down the steep slope, and all three older ones went off in pursuit. This was fine until I lost sight of them and started to fret, this really isn’t very responsible of me- I’m on my own, a sleepy Rachel in my lap- and I’ve let them disappear. I didn’t want to shout for them, disturbing the quiet on the hill over the quite frankly very impressive display Brockham was putting on – but I couldn’t see them. I shouldn’t move – surely they would come back and find me- they knew where we’d been sitting, we could end up chasing each other in circles if I followed them. Gingerly, I edged a few feet down the hill and to my relief spotted a tiny red light that Patrick had on a toy he was carrying. I called quietly to them and they made their way up, disappointed and empty handed. Then I made them sit with me and enjoy the bloody fireworks and we had our nice cuddly moment, which is what I hope they will remember from it.
Emilia was doing my head in a bit with her constant refrain of ‘Are you scared, Rachel?, are you scared? You don’t like the bangs do you Rachel? They’re not loud from here though, you’re not scared are you Rachel, do you like it Rachel? it is not scary is it Rachel? Shall I cuddle you then you won’t be scared will you?’
‘All right Emilia!’ I snap ‘she is fine, she is not scared but she will be if you keep insisting she is, leave her alone, and just watch.’
Before it finished, wanting to get ahead of the traffic, I suggest we make a move. This is initially rejected by Emilia who wants to stay until the end. I try again a few minutes later and Patrick admits he’d like to go home, with one on my side, I seize on it and lead them away with Rachel waving and saying ‘Bye, bye Fireworks.’ We walk backwards so as not to miss the spectacular finish.
I bundle everyone into the car as the crowds start to surge on the car park and back out slowly, anxious not to run into anyone or anything in the chaos. I get the children to check out their windows too, someone waves me on and we make our escape.
A few moments later, as we wind our way down the zig zags, Patrick pipes up from the back
‘Mummy, when can we have a car crash?’
It transpires he just means he wants to be picked up by a tow truck and drive in a lorry like when you break down, but it is already gone 9pm and with the bedtime shenanigans still looming, I am starting to think it would have been nice to have had them all in bed by 7pm and had an early night!
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