The murky day draws to a close and a smirr of rain falls over us and fizzles out.
At the stroke of six, lighter fuel and petrol is generously lashed inside and out of Rathlin Street's illustrious bonfire and an orange glow warms the darkness and a flame springs to life, and now another and another till the flames flicker and catch in a merry dance. Sounds of crackling wood snap in the air and we stand mesmerised as the fire takes hold and burns fiercely.
Mums and children are here, lighting sparklers and tracing patterns in the air. Quite a few babies in prams and toddlers who are either whooping with excitement at the loud bangs and flashes, or very afraid and hiding at mammy's knees.
The central planks of the bonfire collapse, the flames burn more brightly and occasionally beautiful hues of green and blue gleam and die.
Uncle arrives with a big box of fireworks laid in the tray underneath his baby's pram. He sets them alight with a match and up they whizz, exploding with noisy ricochets, bangs and crackling in the night sky.
Every point of the Firework Code is breached here tonight, times a hundred.
Kids light fireworks, fireworks are returned to after lighting when they don't go off immediately - necessitating a hasty retreat, dogs are brought for walks to see the fireworks.
This is what Guy Fawkes is all about; mayhem on a grand scale! Yee hah!