The Fireworks Display

At approximately 1935 hours the family straggled in from its visit to the metropolis. At the time I was engaged in the labourious exercise of transferring the numerous black sacks of crap I'd evacuated from the house up the lane to the furthest point the council-employed refuse collectors will venture.

After waiting until I'd moved all but one back of crap and one back of newspapers and the actually newspaper recycling receptacle the Fat Bastard stepped in and very heroically carried the receptacle to the top of the lane.

Then, after donning heavy-duty boots and coats we set off for what was until very recently the town's playing field for the pyromaniac's pyrotechnician's display. And alas at the corner where until this morning had stood the board promoting this evening's 'specacular' stood a board making somebody's apologies. To the great sadness of the town's children (and relief of every adult and animal within a jolly good radius) the extravaganza had been cancelled due to that had the scribe been up to the task would have been described as inclement weather.

Oh well, there's always the Fifth of November. Remember that?