Yes, it’s my annual fireworks bitch.
See, it’s not even Guy Fawkes day and I’m already sick of fireworks.
My flat is wedged between Eden Valley and Mt Eden and has plenty of flat, hard surfaces and a few nearby trees, creating an excellent environment for all the pyrotechnic pops and bangs to make their way into my whare.
And it’s been going on all week.
Why do people let fireworks off before Guy Fawkes day? It’s like opening your Christmas presents on December 23, or going out to dinner with your boyfriend on February 10, or toasting the eight-hour working week on the third Monday in October.
But for most evenings this week, it appears that various people have been getting a box o’ crackers and going out in their backyards (or mine, if they don’t have one), making some explosions and probably feeling cool for a little while and then doing it all again the next day.
What ever happened to bonfires and pennies for the guy?