Image: Caerlynn Nash.
The first weekend in June was cracker night. We all loved cracker night. Mum would purchase a bag of fireworks and dad would build a bonfire stack in the back yard and we’d all wait anxiously for night to fall.
In those days you could buy almost anything from the shops in terms of fireworks. Anything short of dynamite seemed to be available.
I think dad got a real buzz out of the night too. He’d nail the rotating Catherine wheels to the fence and set them alight. We’d all stand back and watch as the stream of sparks and colours gushed out of it as it spun round.
Being kids we loved playing with the bungers. We had tom-thumbs, penny bungers and double bungers.
With a penny bunger you could send a plastic flowerpot sailing up into the sky.
With a double bunger you were capable of blowing up your neighbour’s letterbox. Not that I did but I knew kids who did.
My greatest adventure was lighting a penny bunger and having it go off just as it left my hand. Like most things in life when you get stung you become very cautious about playing with them again.