The Cowes Week fireworks have evaded me in recent years but I was determined that 2018 was finally going to be our year. For once, I was hopeful that house moves, newborn children or thunderstorms wouldn’t stop us.
And so, when my mother realised she couldn’t fulfil her unpaid role as chief babysitter I resorted to leaving Mrs Guru at home and taking daughter number one to her first ever fireworks display.
We found somewhere to park in Gurnard and started the pleasant walk along the esplanade towards Cowes. The sun was dropping and within a few minutes the Red Arrows were overhead, swirling and drawing love hearts in the sky.
My five-year-old companion was overwhelmed and announced that this was the ‘greatest day of her life, apart from Legoland’ (upon further questioning it turns out that the birth of her sister isn’t even in the top three).
Obviously this all sounds idyllic but I should point out that in the 200 metres we had walked so far, I had developed a blister, my thermos of warm milk had emptied itself in my rucksack and my daughter had required an emergency toilet stop in the woods.
Nonetheless, we limped on towards our fireworks viewing point on the green in Cowes.
A large crowd was gathered but it’s a big open space so it certainly didn’t feel crowded. Motorhome owners lined the streets on the esplanade, parents drank wine whilst their children threw stones in the Solent and a coffee shop did its best night of trade all year.
My daughter enquired if the fireworks would be starting any minute now, to which I replied that we had an hour and a half to fill. It turns out watching yachts gracefully sailing against a sunlit sky isn’t enough for a child so we filled the time with i-spy, choosing attractive pebbles and holding our breath in the public toilets.
There was the usual selection of carnival tat on sale, including Disney themed helium balloons and giant glow sticks.
At one point a girl who looked to be about 3 or 4 ran towards us pulling a pink helium dolphin. She did a couple of Red Arrows inspired loops of us before attempting to continue her route. Unfortunately, the dolphin lodged in my groin, her string snapped and the dolphin floated off in slow motion towards the helium graveyard in the sky. The crowd around me gasped as this mini tragedy was revealed.
I looked towards her mother who had presumably purchased the balloon in an attempt to postpone a past-your-bedtime tantrum (I mean, why else would you?). I felt the blame could go either way so I offered my most aghast expression, the sort face which you would normally expect from an emotional X-Factor contestant.
Thankfully she didn’t appear to be blaming me and we snuck off before she changed her mind.
The light faded and the fireworks began. My companion was even more excited than I that we had actually made it. She even offered a detailed commentary for others in the crowd who weren’t sure which colours were on display.
And we nearly, very nearly, got to the end of the display before she once again announced: “Daddy, I need the toilet…”
And so, when my mother realised she couldn’t fulfil her unpaid role as chief babysitter I resorted to leaving Mrs Guru at home and taking daughter number one to her first ever fireworks display.
We found somewhere to park in Gurnard and started the pleasant walk along the esplanade towards Cowes. The sun was dropping and within a few minutes the Red Arrows were overhead, swirling and drawing love hearts in the sky.
My five-year-old companion was overwhelmed and announced that this was the ‘greatest day of her life, apart from Legoland’ (upon further questioning it turns out that the birth of her sister isn’t even in the top three).
Obviously this all sounds idyllic but I should point out that in the 200 metres we had walked so far, I had developed a blister, my thermos of warm milk had emptied itself in my rucksack and my daughter had required an emergency toilet stop in the woods.
Nonetheless, we limped on towards our fireworks viewing point on the green in Cowes.
A large crowd was gathered but it’s a big open space so it certainly didn’t feel crowded. Motorhome owners lined the streets on the esplanade, parents drank wine whilst their children threw stones in the Solent and a coffee shop did its best night of trade all year.
My daughter enquired if the fireworks would be starting any minute now, to which I replied that we had an hour and a half to fill. It turns out watching yachts gracefully sailing against a sunlit sky isn’t enough for a child so we filled the time with i-spy, choosing attractive pebbles and holding our breath in the public toilets.
There was the usual selection of carnival tat on sale, including Disney themed helium balloons and giant glow sticks.
At one point a girl who looked to be about 3 or 4 ran towards us pulling a pink helium dolphin. She did a couple of Red Arrows inspired loops of us before attempting to continue her route. Unfortunately, the dolphin lodged in my groin, her string snapped and the dolphin floated off in slow motion towards the helium graveyard in the sky. The crowd around me gasped as this mini tragedy was revealed.
I looked towards her mother who had presumably purchased the balloon in an attempt to postpone a past-your-bedtime tantrum (I mean, why else would you?). I felt the blame could go either way so I offered my most aghast expression, the sort face which you would normally expect from an emotional X-Factor contestant.
Thankfully she didn’t appear to be blaming me and we snuck off before she changed her mind.
The light faded and the fireworks began. My companion was even more excited than I that we had actually made it. She even offered a detailed commentary for others in the crowd who weren’t sure which colours were on display.
And we nearly, very nearly, got to the end of the display before she once again announced: “Daddy, I need the toilet…”
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