When
I was a kid in the sixties, we would squander a fiver every year on a bumper
box of Standard Fireworks, a good selection of the cheap and nasty.
Sparklers
you couldn’t light, Catherine wheels that didn’t spin, Rockets that barely left
the garden, Volcanos that didn’t erupt, Bangers that went “pop” and other
assorted damp squibs, but I still look back with fondness on our bonfire night
parties with all the oohs and aahs, but then nostalgia is a wonderful thing.
However
today the fireworks have evolved into something quite different, now they are
more like munitions than pyrotechnics, and bonfire night is more like the
barrage before the battle of the Somme, not so much provoking oohs or aahs but
more of a “where’s my bloody helmet”.
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