Tokyo Bay will erupt this evening. Between 18:50 and 20:10 precisely, 12,000 fireworks will detonate to carefully choreographed and rehearsed rhythms, watched by close to a million people (most of whom seem to pass through our local subway station).

I never understood the fascination with fireworks. The first one is impressive for sure, but after that it's basically a series of ever finer variations on the same theme. There are only so many times I can watch something exploding into different colours and after-effects before I start wandering if we can leave early to avoid the crowds. Yes, very pretty, can we go now?

I grew up in the north of England where the summers were mediocre-to-mild and the sun lingered long into the evenings. Fireworks need a black backdrop, so we used to allocate just one night for them, November the 5th, when we mark the failure of a bunch of inept plotters to blow up the Houses of Parliament. We 'celebrate' by lighting bonfires and spending £5.75 on a damp box of underachieving rockets, pathetic Catherine wheels, disappointing Roman Candles and seriously dangerous 'bangers'. There are many who suggest we should be commiserating instead of celebrating and going by the facial expressions of the average bonfire attendee, you'd assume we probably were. My childhood memories remind me that November 5th consistently coincided with one of the coldest, wettest and most miserable nights of the year. Every bonfire night meant freezing drizzle, blustery, swirling wind (great fun for the over-stretched fire brigades throughout the country), damp squibs and adults pretending to have a good time 'for the kids' while the kids huddled in corners and cried when the sparklers ran out. Life's sparkles, we learn at an early age, never last as long as you expect.

Since I left the UK, I understand it has become customary for various cities to have a go at what the rest of the world would call a 'pyrotechnic display' to mark the New Year (never the warmest night of the year) and sometimes for big occasions like an Olympic Ceremony or the Queen achieving a round number. I'm sure they are more fun than the bonfire nights of my childhood, but even if they are, I still wouldn't go anywhere near them because the British turn into a dangerous, uncivilised mob when they congregate in large numbers. There were 'only 90 arrests' during last January's London New Year's celebrations, but then the Metropolitan Police had insisted that the event be ticketed in order to bring the numbers down from half a million to 100,000. That's the maximum they reckon they can safely handle.

There are no such restrictions in Tokyo. The crowds swarm like iridescent shoals. It will be dark by 7:00 tonight but still a humid 29˚. Most of the young girls will wear brightly coloured yukata - a form of light kimono and many of them will clip-clop along the carefully planned routes to the free vantage points in wooden flip-flops called geta. Crowd control is meticulously planned and politely encouraged by loudhailer-wielding police placed strategically along the way. Everyone arrives early and waits patiently to leave in an orderly manner afterward. They always take their litter with them. The fireworks may be impressive but the crowds are much more so. There will be no drunken, loutish behaviour, there will be no crime, and it will be a pleasure to be among the young Japanese at play.

I still won't be going though, after all, when you've seen one whizz-bang. . .