BONFIRE Night comes around tomorrow and it makes you wonder how today's children will remember, remember the Fifth of November in future years.

Will there be a warm glow when they look back on the warnings not to fool with fireworks, the calls for them to be banned, the anguish of pet owners and the dire predictions that food poisoning is likely to ensue from grub which is not cooked properly?

Every year people are killed or maimed and we all know enough to be thoroughly apprehensive about this traditional "fun" event. Will we be the victims of marauding youths armed with bangers, or is the house likely to burn down as a result of a spark from a falling rocket? Will firemen be attacked when they arrive to deal with bonfires which get out of hand?

All these things have happened and the knowledge surely dampens the pleasure the older we get. Reflecting on my semi-rural childhood in Blackpool, I can actually remember looking forward to Bonfire Night for weeks in advance.

We collected wood diligently and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to guard it from raids by the lads who were building a rival attraction round the corner. When the bonfire was lit there were always adults around, but there was a welcome absence of the paranoia which surrounds such events today.

Traditional activities such as letting off 2d bangers in an old Oxo tin and throwing rip-raps behind girls did not seem to provoke much criticism.

Afterwards -- and I have no idea why we did this -- my pals and I used to enjoy collecting fallen rocket sticks. With hindsight, I cannot think of anything more pointless, but it was something we did and it was entirely harmless. Perhaps I should have used them to build a Norman keep or something.

Over the years the message has been hammered home relentlessly that Bonfire Night is extremely dangerous (no doubt it always was) and that it is safer to attend official events rather than enjoy a blaze at the bottom of the garden. But then people have been hurt at organised "bonnies" as well.

Also, the rising cost of insurance and the growth of a compensation culture have persuaded some potential organisers that they would be better off at home watching television.

Successful bonfires are still held throughout Bolton, but my impression is that there are not as many as there used to be and that some of the sparkle, so to speak, is going out of this annual event.

The whole thing seems to have been distorted by the growing interest in Halloween "Trick or Treating" -- one of the more appalling traditions imported from the States -- and the suspicion that cash demanded with menaces will be used to buy fireworks of all shapes and sizes. Some I saw in a local shop last week would be useful for summoning lifeboats should I choose to go sailing.

The ancient cry of "Penny for the Guy" seems to have mostly disappeared and you suspect that the magic of Bonfire Night has dimmed for all but the very young. But then again, I could be turning into Victor Meldrew.