Good moaning all,
Just a thought, if Rachel would consider taxing the use of the 502 error code then it might fill a chunk of her black hole?
I’ve got my ELEVENTH Prostap jab coming up on Friday and then there will just be two more left before I can have my Independence Day!
Here we are, and as I temporarily clear my Prostap induced head fuzziness I realise that it is bonfire night tomorrow. WowWee, remember folks, when we were kids how bonfire night used to be the 2nd most exciting day of the year (2nd after Christmas day, or maybe 3rd after birthday too). For 3-4 weeks or more beforehand our little gang would be out every evening chumping – that’s collecting wood or anything that would burn, to go on the bonfire. We would have to take care hiding it in our gardens to prevent other gangs from pinching it all. Mind you we would do our fair share of raiding too. Every house on our corner of the state would take it in turn to host the bonfire each year, even those households without kids would be involved. Old Mr Sellars at the top always used to donate one of his hats for the guy.
As kids we were allowed sparklers and flare matches, although to this day I think that little kids waving sparklers were more dangerous than anything, but as we grew older, we were able to get hold of bangers and the much-coveted air bombs. We were little sods, as we would chuck them all over the place and make genies which we made even more explosive if put in an empty grapefruit juice jar – the less said about those escapades the better! So dangerous! The scariest place to be in the days around bonfire night was at a football match, bangers everywhere, it was completely mad!
Then the excitement of bonfire night itself. After watching Blue Peter with their warnings to keep safe, my dad would spend time looking through the fireworks he’d bought (‘standard fireworks’) before dutifully putting them into an empty Quality Street tin. We’d get excited by the rockets and other fireworks with names like Vesuvius, Roman Candles, Catherine Wheels etc. At the bonfire, we would watch the fire being lit and from where we lived, we could see hundreds of other bonfires lighting up the sky across the district. We were allowed to stand close around the fire keeping warm and being fed with hot potatoes washed down with Dandelion & Burdoch. Parents would take in turns to set off their stash, kids having to stand well back. How many times the firework once lit then went out and the parent then going in to inspect and relight – doh! How many times the Catherine wheel would spin off, or a rocket go horizontal instead of up? And those other fireworks that would chase you down the drive and it’s driving me mad trying to remember what they were called. We’d be allowed to stay up late but once to bed I’d stay up by the window watching the fire dying out.
Yep, different days! But in truth they were dangerous times, I know of quite a few kids at the time who got burnt, so it’s understandable how it has been made safe for today’s generation. The last bonfire I attended was a few years ago with my kids. We had to stand about two miles away from the bonfire, although the fireworks display was impressive it isn’t the same is it?
Anyway, back to reality. I decided to have a go at tweaking my remaining snow white tufts by having a go with ‘Alpecin Gray Attack’ shampoo. Reading the tin it appears to promise just what I was looking for and that is to just to make it a bit more silvery instead of white. I’m a few weeks into this experiment and have just returned from the barbers. Yes, so it is no longer snow white, instead it has taken on a purple tinge just like an old granny’s blue rinse. If I happen to be in a bar lit by UV then my bonce will glow like a beacon! Never again, will I ever learn?
Have a good day all
Spongebob.