The traffic around Chislehurst was so bad we actually got off the bus a stop early and walked up the road, beating the bus to the next stop by a few seconds. Not sure exactly where we were going we simply followed the crowds until arriving at the recreation ground. There we investigated the few food stores scattered around before wandering the small funfair. Heather found a catch the ball in the net game, plus a hook a duck (a hippo and dino being added to the ever growing menagerie of stuffed animals). There weren’t the large rides of Danson, though the teacups looked fast for such things and amusement was provided watching a man trying to dry off an inflatable slide.
We took up a spot to watch the fireworks and waited, and waited. On a stage a children’s dance competition gave way to a woman playing with fire to the Game of Thrones theme music. This went on so long that one began to wonder if it was actually some sort of low quality re-enactment if an episode. Finally, after further faffing around, there was a countdown and things got under way.
There was no music to accompany the fireworks, which is in itself not a bad thing but does require a constant stream of explosions. These seemed to have quite the pause between one set of rockets and the next. There were some impressive and pretty bangs, though a fair number falling slightly flatter. The end, when it came, was a little farcical—no great crescendo but an announcer uncertain two or three times whether things were actually over.
We wandered home via the Queen’s Head (where it is important to remove one’s hat) to warm up (rather bizarrely there was a man called Gary sat at a table with a ring of stones apparently offering tarot readings). And then it was home.