Fireworks – WTF

fireworks-lotiI know I’m turning into a grumpy old bastard because at 36 I’ve just realised I hate fireworks.
I’ve always loved fireworks, all my life as soon as I’ve heard them cracking the night sky I’ve dived to the nearest window and pressed my face right up to the freezing glass trying to work out who’s garden they’re coming from and hoping for a great view!
This year my only thought has been STFU!
Now I’m not sure that’s real text speak but as a dad, I’m not supposed to know text speak so I don’t care, if you don’t understand it then you’re not on the same wavelength anyway so you may as well just FO.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve either lived in places where there was so little money that the Smiths next door having 5 rockets and a Catherine Wheel was the event of the street or wealthy enough that no one would dream of doing their own, a jaunt down to the Rutherford’s for a spectacle fantastique was just the thing to do.
We’ve this year bought our own place where everyone has a garden, everyone can afford fireworks and the god-damned Wilsons down the road are competing with the Millers two doors on to see how many incessant bangs, cracks and whizzes they can make between late October and the end of November!
Every time I hear I siren go by I dive to the nearest window and press my face right up to the freezing glass trying to see if one of those rockets has backfired and blown the bastards to smithereens!

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