Down to Ravenscourt Park for the Fireworks tonight and again reminded of the rapid passage of time, as it's
two years since I last came (look how young I look in the photo!) and over 35 years since the first memories of celebrating this failed terrorist atrocity. Back then we used to have a bonfire and a few fireworks in the back garden and the one I seem to recall is a little squiggly one that jumped around on the ground. And of course it was around that time that we found our cat Oscar amongst the embers of one bonfire, with a bad burn in his side.
But for now it didn't feel like two years since me and my girlfriend had last been here (nor since the Westfield shopping centre opened). So the days of our lives fly by. Last time, apparently, I had uncharacteristically agreed to go on some of the fairground rides, but tonight I was not in the mood, preferring to find a good spot on the muddy park to witness the explosions. My girlfriend clearly pined a little for the more adventurous younger me with whom she had had less familiarity and thus less contempt. Perhaps these annual events are only here to remind us of how wonderful our pasts were compared with our presents. Except for me, because my girlfriend becomes more beautiful and wonderful every day.
But we did manage to eat a couple of overpriced hotdogs which were, it seemed made out of balloons full of water. Still that's all part of the fun, right?
Just like last time we were here there was a man trying to keep the spirits of the crowd up by singing songs and telling jokes. He did the one about how Batman's mum calls him in for dinner and I wondered if this would make any sense to any of the children it was aimed at. Surely the TV version of Batman to which that alludes has not been on our screens for ten or twenty years. If those kids know Batman it would be from the gritty movie versions. Last time the mayor of the borough was on hand to do a dull speech to kill time, but this time we only got the deputy major of Hammersmith and Fulham Council, who didn't even know how to use a microphone properly. We just wanted it to start. But our host with his pocketful of ancient jokes was determined to test the patience of the crowd as far as he could, delaying the start of the display with inanities and seemingly unaware that only the people at the front of the throng were able to see him. He started a countdown to the display, but then aborted it as the crowd were not shouting enough. "Stop," he said to general indifference, "That's not loud enough... you on this side, you do the countdown." But what side did he mean? We couldn't see where he was pointing. Nor in the darkness did we have any real idea of the extent of the crowd and our own position in it. And mainly we wanted him to shut up and some explosions of light and sound to begin. But he curtailed the proceedings a couple of times and the countdown got no louder and all that could be heard were the boos of the crowd. He had united us all and got us all shouting, but only in hatred of him.
Finally it all got underway and it was an impressive display, although I am clearly getting old because as much as I liked it I couldn't help thinking about how much money was evaporating in the air over our heads. But real kudos to the guys who put this thing together - it was amazing and great value at only £6 (or £4 if we'd booked in advance).
The second it was over, the compere was back on the microphone, pretty much immediately encouraging us to leave. I thought this was foolish and that he might have encouraged people to stay and enjoy the rides and the overpriced watery food, but he was just shouting "Bye! On your way" and thus sending hundreds of people heading through the mud to the exits. Luckily no one surged or we could have all been crushed to death. Surely they can find a better host for this gig. Having said that it's a tough crowd to work to. I don't think there's a performer on earth that you'd prefer to listen to if a fireworks display to the music from Flash Gordon was on offer.
