Fractures and fireworks

Man I’ve been up a long time. A slightly troubled mind has led to a return of insomnia. Sleep deserted me at 3am, and doesn’t seem keen to come back again, so I thought I might as well blog!
It’s a rare weekend off for me so yesterday we took full advantage. The morning was spent in bed, then we went for a pub lunch and some lager. On the walk home, we passed a park where a football match was in progress, so we stood in the rain and spectated. Some poor sod fell awkwardly and broke his leg, and when the ambulance arrived to collect him, it got bogged down in the mud and just sat there. They had to wait half-an-hour for a farmer to tow it out with a tractor. The groundsman in charge of the playing field was there, and when he saw the mess they’d made of the pitch, he cried. I felt sorry for the patient but it was all very, very funny.
After a takeaway tea we got picked up by one of Philippa’s badminton mates, and went to a Bonfire Night display near the coast. This was a PROPER Bonfire Night do, by the way, where tradition, fun and extravagance have not given way to health and safety and silliness. There were hot dogs, and soup, and potatoes, and - most impressively - mugs full of tea with whiskey in!
The fireworks were amazing. One of the best displays I’ve ever seen. Later on, standing with my arms around my sweetheart, with the heat from the bonfire warming my cheeks, and the heat from the whiskey warming my belly, I looked around me at the happy families and the beaming children and I swear I could see our future. It was stretching out before us like a 60-year journey and it all felt so imminent and wonderful. I just knew that, whatever I may face in the decades to come, I would be facing it with someone special, and I would always have her strength and support.
I got lost in the romanticism of it all, and I think I asked Philippa to marry me.