Nov 5, 2020: Remember, Remember, Your Neighbours Are Fools

There’s a fun tradition on our street which started last year, but it’s good to see it making a comeback this year because with all the terrible things happening in the world it’s always good to have something to look forward to. And with Lockdown 2.0 coming into effect, there was a chance that this wouldn’t see the light of day again this year.

But no, it’s all good.

Our neighbour a couple of doors down is letting off fireworks.

Not, as you might expect, within the confines of their own garden or front yard. Not even on the large expanse of grass which is in the centre of our circular street.

No.

It’s in the road, directly in front of the house, between two parked cars.

Because that’s the obvious place to do it. And, I guess, when you drill down into the rules, regulations and guidelines for fireworks it doesn’t say, anywhere, that you shouldn’t set them off between parked cars, or that the sparks or hot debris will cause any sort of damage to the paintwork of said machines. Or you know, if you’re lucky, set fire to your midlife crisis soft-top.

So that’s happening.

Again.

Last year, we’d been out and came back to it in full motion, fireworks propped up against a brick which had presumably been found somewhere to stop them falling and pointing directly at a car. The following morning, it looks like the precursor to Pompeii with ash dusting every surface of the parked vehicles.

You’d think that such a thing wouldn’t happen again. But it has. And is.

But this year it has added child peering over shoulder as adult lights fireworks dangers to it.

It’s like the first ten minutes of an episode of Casualty. What could possibly go wrong, huh? If anyone who’s out there watching says something about plans for retirement or getting married then they are really just bringing down the full wrath of the universe onto them, as opposed to the partial wrath they’re getting now.

Not to mention the fact that it’s terrifying the crap out of Peppa, so she’s all out of sorts and wanting to attack everyone. Where, in this case, everyone is me.

Bloody fireworks.

Bloody people who set off fireworks.

Bloody streets without vast swathes of grass in the centre, forcing people to set off rockets in the kerb, presumably tucking the stick into the drain cover in the absense of a milk bottle…

Ugh…