Thanks, everyone, for bringing back Bonfire Night memories (good and bad). We used to accumulate fireworks for several weeks before the "big night", and I loved just looking at them. I can remember wheeling a guy around in a cart, begging "Penny for the guy, mister?" Then the "big night" itself: we usually went to a community bonfire somewhere, thrilled to the spectacle of the fireworks, and relished the baked potato or sausage on a bread roll (and probably Bournville cocoa). The year I turned 13 (1962) disaster struck. Some "bad lads" were letting off sky rockets along the ground, and one hit the shoulder of a man standing next to me and rebounded into my eye! Instant agony and two weeks in the Eye Hospital: no long-term effects though.
After we emigrated to Australia in 1964, "Bonfire Night" became "Cracker Night" and was on the Queen's "birthday" in June, not 5 November. Nowadays it's all very tightly (and probably rightly) controlled, and huge professional fireworks displays are usual on occasions of special celebration. But I can still feel the thrill of Bonfire Night in Birmingham and Sutton all those years ago.