Bommy night

It started at least three weeks before bommy night. We would start to collect any thing that might burn to build our bonfire. Ours would be built on what is now called holbeck estate, but back then in the 50's it was just a waste land of rough ground. There were plenty of these sort of areas all over Barrow and Bommy night was a competition to see which of us could build the biggest Bommy. So Three weeks, at least before, we started the scavaging of our neighbour hoods for old chairs, tables, trees, planks, railway sleepers, tyres, you name it, if it was flammable it was piled up around the position of the Bommy.

As the time drew nearer to November the 5th our Bommy would begin to take shape and each day would grow a little more until about five days before the 5th it would start to resemble a giant edifice that could be seen towering above the horizon from anywhere in the area. The promise of this towering inferno though brought it's hazards, not least the possibilities of raiders. Rival Bommy builders would be sure to nick lots of your Bommy if you didn't post a sentry to ward off these unwanted intrusions on your hard fought battle to build a big one.

Your Bommy was big enough to have four or five of us kids sat high on top of this work of art, armed with catapults, or bows and arrows. There would be a secret way to climb to the top of this 30ft pile of tinder dry death trap. And death trap it could have been except for the fact that we didn't load the triangular hole at the base with paper until the actual day. Every night for the last ten days some one was allocated to guard the Bommy.

The crowning glory, the Guy, would arrive perhaps the day before and sat in an old arm chair that topped off the Glorious heap. By now the bottom would be stuffed full of old newspapers, cardboard, and if you were lucky some ashfelt or lino to ensure a first time burn. This was the most perilous time, and a vigil had to be mounted to ensure that no rival gangs sneaked on to your patch to light your fire before the allotted time of 6.30 on Bommy night itself.

Fireworks back then were quite humble and pretty. Roman candles, Vesuvius fountains, snow storms, cathrine wheels, pathetic penny bangers, and rockets that just went woosh. Some posh people might have bought a rocket that released a red glowing flare, meant to be released at sea with a parachute that helped it float on the breeze 100ft up in the air but all of these paled into insignificance to the Bommy. The Bommy was the star of the show. By the time it was well alight we would have to be stood a good 10 or 20 yards back and be very vigilant about a collapse as the flames licked high into the night sky spluttering millions of red hot sparks.
Parents with todlers, tens and teens would be gathered, maybe a hundred or more all with sparklers, your whole neighbour hood would be there, a real communal event.

Now sadly the health and safety brigade, instead of the fire brigade, have stepped in and robbed us of this grand event. The Bommy has passed into history and has become a staged event on some football ground with the fireworks being huge exploding cascades in the sky set off by highly qualified pyrotechnic teams.

Bring back the Bommy, that searing heat haze on a cold November night, it made the coming of winter something to look forward to, a bit of danger, dogeing the flip flops and combing through the embers the next day hunting for that firework that never went off. Tipping the gunpowder out and creating a mini Hiroshima that sent us home with singed eyebrows.
Bring back the Bommy, it's what the big society was made for when we all got together and lived dangerously.

What do you think