Years ago, when I was young, we had Bonfire Night. Most of the fireworks were pretty ones, there were always a few bangers, and irresponsible boys used to throw them at the girls, and even worse at poor animals.
Cranmore Road and Clark Road kids put all their fireworks in a big box near the bonfire in the alley, a spark lit the lot and all hell broke loose. As we ran away rockets zoomed past our ears and Jumping Jacks chased us.
The fireworks now are like wartime bombs going off, I quite expect one out of control to smash through my window, and when explosives are dancing on my roof I fear that my little birds in the conservatory will die of shock. It’s just endless, and goes on all through the winter.
Why can’t people celebrate without all these bombs going off?
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