Bangs and Whimpers
I’m not into that. I have a childhood memory of a firework banging into the side of my shoe and a big man whisking me up out of the way before it went off. I don’t know if this memory is real, or if I just watched one too many Government Health Advice Ads in the 1970s.
But there’s always the risk. Even when they say “Go to an organised display”, there’s usually a news report of some mis firing disaster. Not worth it.
However, I went out to training at the park as usual in the freezing dark, where every ned and his homies decided to congregate and set off mutipacks of fireworks.
It was the closest thing to Divali in Calcutta back in 1997 when the whole place was alight with teenagers setting fire to whole boxes of fireworks in the middle of the street. Eek!
However, I was training away – doing my laps, press ups and squats and running through the pitch black over uneven terrain – and with all the whizzing and banging it made me think of how disorienting it must be to be in any kind of a war zone. Pitch black one minute – all light and sound the next. But the similarity ends there.
Now… here’s a thing… if Scotland became independent…. would we stop celebrating Guy Fawkes night? Would we?
I think we are too glaikit to spot the irony, and will carry on, grinning inanely and setting fire to things that go bang.
Although, maybe it is “a good thing” to celebrate the foiling of a terrorist plot, no matter whether or not you are still technically part of that country any more.
Yeah. We’d still have it.