Be alert, but not alarmed.

Saturday night was Guy Fawkes Eve, so a group of us (including internationally renowned potato judge Michael Croke) braved thousands of the great unwashed (and the worst teenagers in Europe) and travelled up to Alexandra Palace to watch "London's biggest Guy Fawkes firework display" (tm reg). It was well-organised, although the general feeling was it was slightly overpoliced ("Sparklers are not allowed" and "You can't stand there, that area's for the 'disableds'").





After discovering that the ice-skating wasn't open, our evening started off in the bar. It turned out that we were standing in the unofficial meeting spot for disabled patrons, and every two minutes someone new in a wheelchair rolled up behind us. There was also a group of 30 dwarves running around, which added to the slightly surreal feel of the evening. At one point our group was video-ed by the dwarves, which we thought was rather exploitative of them.

In order to beat the crowds, we arrived at Ally Pally early, but we were distracted by the bar and food, so by the time we got back outside we had to force our way through the scrum to get a decent viewpoint for the fireworks, but I was slightly nervous as Mark had smuggled in mulled wine (highly illegal), and Mel had sparklers (also illegal). Imagine if we had been caught and transported to Australia. The shame of it all. Luckily, Mark had spilt most of the mulled wine, so that went quickly (probably also because it had a decent whack of brandy in it). The sparklers were more problematic for me, but I decided to stand down the hill away from my friends so I wouldn't be arrested when they lit them. Imagine my disappointment when there was no charging line of riot police when the sparklers were lit.

The display lasted for 20 (30?) minutes or so and was impressive stuff. The hill that Ally Pally is built upon also has a great view across London to Canary Wharf, the City and the West End, so we could see fireworks going off all over London. Guy Fawkes night really is one of my favourite nights in the UK - I love fireworks, (but not in the way my ex did). I was so over-excited everyone decided to take me for a drink in Soho to calm me down. That was almost as much fun as the fireworks. My not-too-much alcohol vow went out the window too. Oh well, I suppose there's always next weekend.