And it all went with a few (quite small) bangs

Bonfire night last night and, for me, it got off to a particularly embarrassing start.

As promised, I bought a box of what turned out to be fairly sensible fireworks for the inaugural White Family Display. But, shortly before I left my desk in Bradford City Hall, the heavens opened.

So, I put the fireworks in my bag, put my brolley up and marched determinedly into the deluge - which just got heavier and heavier as I walked.

It became so bad that I began to ponder whether it might be better to delay our plans until tonight when the weather was due to be better. After all, I didn't want Jamie to get wet, Vanessa only had her hair done last weekend and I was still very unsure about how to light the fireworks anyway. Perhaps a couple of hours reading the instructions, in the warmth of our living room, might be the best solution.

I continued to walk whilst all these thoughts were running through my head. Into the Bradford Interchange building, through the station and up the escalator. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone laughing. At me.

Yes folks, I had walked into the Bradford Interchange building, through the station and up the escalator - with my brolley still up.

"It might be wet outside, mate, but it's perfectly dry in here," came the rapid fire comment from the young man at the top of the escalator whilst others watched on. 10 out of 10 to him - but I was gutted.

By the time I made the final approach from New Pudsey station towards home - following the inevitable 20-minute train delay - the rain had almost stopped. And this, of course, made me wonder whether it might yet be possible to go ahead and "light 'em up" after all.

But then my phone rang. It was Vanessa to say we'd had a power cut and were likely to be without electricity for another hour at least. Oh, and Jamie was starting to go a bit mad. The decision was therefore made.

I rushed home and changed my clothes by candlelight whilst Vanessa and Jamie put on about six coats each, and outside we shuffled.

Equipped with Jamie's Thomas the Tank Engine torch, a BBQ lighter and my box of fireworks, and perhaps against the odds, the whole thing came together rather well. And, most importantly, Jamie loved it.

As I say, there weren't the most exciting fireworks anyone has ever witnessed but they were colourful, some shot up in the air and they weren't too loud - just the ticket for a 16-month-old boy and a 30-something mummy (34, almost 35 in case you're interested).

And crucially I didn't kill anyone - or even maim them horribly.

A welcome irony was that, within about a minute of the 11th and final firework (which I'd been saving but which ultimately turned out to be an anti-climax in firework form) doing what it did, our lights came back on. Marvellous.

Only 365 more sleeps now left until next year's big night - when I might even decide to increase the White Family Display budget to more then £5.99 (including discounts for cash). Sure, you only live once.