We got to talking about indoor fireworks the other day. I don't know if they're still available as I don't visit the fly-by-night fireworks shops that pop up in mid-summer to make our lives hell. Between chemistry A-level and early drinking habits I've had enough bangs, crashes and flashes of unearthly lights to do me for a couple more decades yet. But we got talking about them anyway. Yet another of the blighted disappointments of childhood...
All agog with our Tizer we'd toddle over to the house next-door-but-one, drawn by the rumour that "they've got indoor fireworks!" The thrill of anticipation! The gleeful speculation of marvels to come! The excitement mounted!
Number one: The Hissing Cobra.
Strike. Fizz. Fizz Fizz Fizz. Oh look: a dog turd made out of ashes.
Number two: Tutankhamen's Doo-dah.
Strike. Fizz. Fizzzzzzzzzzz. Splut. Oh look: a dog turd made out of ashes.
Number three: The Mighty Python
Strike. Fizz. Fhshpluttttt! Oh look: a dog turd made out of ashes.
You get the drift. The Magic Carpet. The Sorceror's Apprentice. The Poison Cloud. The Olympian Torch. Dog turds made out of ashes, the lot of them.
I know we have to learn life's lessons at some time but couldn't they have been more gentle about it?
Friday the 13th
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The realization that only 43 days are left in the Biden-Harris
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8 comments:
That brings back memories.
I do apologise, Fairy Hedgehog.
The Magic Carpet. The Sorceror's Apprentice. The Poison Cloud. The Olympian Torch.
Er...Kevin...aren't these the titles of Harry Potter books? Bwah-ha-ha!
indoor sparklers are good though
When I was a little girl, our next-door neighbour was a Director of Brock (the firework people) and used to provide us with the most wonderful selection for bonfire night, but even THEIR indoor stuff was rubbish.
After I turned 16 or so, our neighbour became silly, and I had to avoid him on 5 November as he became increasingly keen to show me his Bengali Spurter. I suspect, however, he was one of these men who boast of impressive Roman Candles, but can only produce a damp squib when pressed.
Do you remember the advertising jingle "Lighten up the sky with Standard Fireworks"? I could sing it to you now if I had to.
Word verification gilingsub.
I'll say it again, as I've said it before: why can't people make do with a nice little sparkler and the occasional firecracker??
Sx
Indoor fireworks were the big myth of my youth. It was always outside, in a cold field. I always had grass stains, not carpet burns.
Ah, I remember these well. If anyone's confused, the idea was that produced a very looonng dog turd made of ashes, resembling a snake. I was enchanted by them, and am so easily pleased that I probably still would be.
Not even in jest, Lavinia!
Fair do's, Ellis. And I think Scarlet might be willing to agree in principle, grass stains permitting
Mrs. P.: chipolatas
gd: egad. Ask Mrs. P. for advice on suitable stimulants. (then disregard it completely as a health & safety precaution)
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