Last Saturday I popped along the road to pick up some raspberry jam so Stuart could make some jam tarts with the left over short-crust pastry he had left over from making tonight’s moo-cow pie and happened to notice the various firework parties kicking off along the road.
We still live in that sort of area where the families like to show off about having outside space and are showing Tabitha, Georgina and Henry what it was like back in their day when Father lit the fireworks rather than having to go to those
dreadful community events.
The German couple on the corner were lighting their fireworks one at a time and waiting a few minutes between each one. Very organised.
The French couple next door have got their fireworks propped up against their garden wall and just chatting and drinking wine.
The Brazilian couple opposite let all of theirs off in one enormous explosion and are now playing music.
The Spaniards next door but three have sent all of theirs horizontally down the street petrifying the whole neighbour as they exploded on, over and under the cars.
The Brit families are all crowded over their damp fireworks trying to light them with damp matches.
Community events next year guys, yeah?