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Warzone...

This time of year always makes me think of living in a warzone. With loud bands and explosions going off in all quarters, the sound of rockets flying over head, etc.

OK, I know the sound of fireworks is immensely different to the sound of gunfire and bombs (both of which I've heard but luckily never in a warzone!) but it still reminds me.

I wonder about walking the streets of a deserted city, explosions rocking the night sky and the smell of gunpowder in the air. Even when you know it's celebratory fireworks it can still surprise you, we can't really imagine what it's like in areas with war or uprisings going on.

I always think that I should try and write a chapter of a book set in a warzone around this time. At least I'd have a light version of the actual sound effects going on outside my four walls!

Anyway, November 5th is well and truly here and Finchley has erupted in a non-stop chorus of explosions and lights.

Hope all my fellow British residents are having fun with their sparklers and frieworks. I've made sure I'm locked safely away at home. I, personally, think it's a bloody stupid idea allowing the British public to buy fireworks over the counter and feel they should only be sold to people who have a license to buy them for organised events. There are too many little prats around plus older prats that get pissed and then think it's a good idea to go and light the fireworks.

A friend of mine was at a bus stop in North Finchley (Tally Ho Corner) the other say when a bunch of kids let off a box full of rockets right next to the bus stop. Luckily no was injured but that's really not the point.

Call me a killjoy if you like but I think Guy Fawkes celebrations should be licensed, properly organised, affairs.

Comments

lareinemisere
Nov. 6th, 2006 07:58 pm (UTC)
Properly enforcing the existing laws would be a good start. If the authorities actually used the powers they have to fine people who sell fireworks to kids (and refused to licence those people the following year), a lot of the most blatant stupidity would stop. The first school I ever taught in was a failing school. In the fortnight around fireworks night, a favourite trick of some of the less charming pupils was setting off rockets horizontally down the corridors. How no-one got injured I will never know...

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