My Life on a Plate

My Worst Nightmare

Remember, Remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
We see no reason,
Why gunpowder treason,
Should ever be forgot.

Well, I see EVERY reason to forget this annual nightmare we’re subjected to in merry old England. I know, I know, all I’ve done this week is grump but allow me the grump of all grumps and then I promise I’ll zip up.

Four hundred years ago today, Guido Fawkes attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. The intention was to kill King James 1 but the plot was discovered and Guido and his conspirators were arrested, tortured and executed. That’s the short version but enough of history. The occasion has been celebrated ever since, but why I don’t really know. Maybe England would be a better place had Guido actually succeeded with his plans, who knows?

When I was a child we celebrated Bonfire Night on November the 5th. We’d make a guy out of old clothes, straw, paper, sacks and any other available materials. In the evening, the guy would be placed on top of a bonfire made up of wood, unwanted furniture and boxes etc and burnt. We’d have a box of pretty fireworks to let off and hold sparklers. The ‘banger’ was considered really naughty and in reality probably made as much noise as a car backfiring. Jumping Jacks were as dangerous as it got and they were eventually banned. Family, friends and neighbours would gather around the fire, eating chestnuts, jacket potatoes, hot dogs and mushy peas. A good time was had by all, and then we all went home and resumed ordinary life.

As with Halloween, I don’t remember when things changed but for many years now we have been made to suffer because of lack of legislation, pathetic government excuses and the ugly greed of those who profit. Now we have what the government have renamed ‘The Firework Season.’ From the end of September fireworks of the loudest, most frightening and horrendous type are readily available and explode almost every day and night for weeks on end.

Oh yes, there are laws but to even describe them as pathetic is a gross understatement. Nothing stops idiots from buying, using and abusing these monstrous bombs and our government do little to stop it. I have written to many politicians, newspapers and societies to try and put a stop to this awful corruption of what was once an innocent, one night event. It angers and irritates thousands of people here, leaves children maimed for life after accidents and stretches our emergency services to the limit. But my main heartbreak is for the animals of this country, both pets and wildlife.

My last dog was petrified by fireworks and I still maintain all the stress he went through every year was a contributory factor to his death. He’d frequently vomit, tremble for nights on end and have to be tranquillised. But you try deciding which nights are going to be the worst out of several months and when to give an animal sedation. I know animals are killed, maimed and terrified every year by this onslaught and have witnessed birds dropping dead from the sky.

Why, why, why when other countries have banned the selling of fireworks for over thirty years, does England allow this awful period each year to continue? As I sit here it sounds like a war outside and I want to scream, ‘For God’s sake what is the POINT of all this?’ I ABSOLUTELY HATE IT.

Organised displays on one weekend I could cope with, but this week after week of mindless explosions just to keep a few morons amused is getting worse and worse every year. Our government are putting forward plans to make smoking illegal in public places, but are quite content to sit back and do nothing about something as dangerous, unfair, ridiculous and damaging as this firework free-for-all. Maybe the answer is emigration, at times like this England is hell on earth and I have to laugh at those who believe it to be a place of thatched cottages and cream teas. It just becomes a worse place to live as time goes by.

I could write forever about this and have done on many occasions but it gets me nowhere. No doubt we’ll be subjected to continuous fireworks for months on end every year; I wouldn’t be surprised if it soon becomes the whole 365 of them, but for now I’d better stop before I send everyone to sleep. You wouldn’t have a cat in hell’s chance of sleeping through the racket here though.

Okay, okay, grump over. I promise my next entry will be all sweetness and light and on much more amusing subjects but you may have to wait a while until I find something light-hearted to record. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.