So, Summer.
Summer has thrown itself at us with its usual British Summer awkwardness. You know its coming, but you're never entirely sure when its OK to officially announce its existence. I prefer not to refer to the present as “summer” until all educational shackles are thrown down for the season and thus “summer” does not officially begin at all anywhere until May 26th at 5:15pm. Never the less my intrepid optimism paths the way for a new and interesting season known only as “The Season of Revision And Anti-Revision”. In this period those meant to be revising either revise, or do things entirely opposite to revision. Like setting fire to the sky. This I set out to do this past Saturday with resounding success.
An interesting point of note: In America fireworks are illegal. For everyone. Everywhere. All the time. In the UK fireworks are legal. For everyone (over 18). All the time. But perhaps more significantly, we are taught that fireworks are not toys. Oh no. Yet, should I wish to purchase said potential surface-to-air weaponry where, perhaps, should I seek the supplies for my potentially lethal armoury? Why, the toy shop of course! So, I ambled through Toy Master in Norwich city centre, toddlers and young children milling around me picking up and breaking anything that isn't packaged securely enough, and wandered up to the counter. A bespeckled old lady, the sort you'd expect in any good old fashioned sweetie shop smiled and asked what I'd like. “Why fair shop keep, I'd like some fireworks please”, “Certainly young lad! Here, peruse our collection whilst I serve this gentleman who's buying a small ball for his infant to run about with in the road”. So, armed to the teeth with previously purchased meat product, lesbian tomato ketchup, a lovely set of baps (if only), some bread rolls, and now some good high grade weaponry I returned to my abode, a very happy chappy.
It was lovely to spend some time with Ross and spending it setting fire to the sky and high grade meat product, drinking numerous beers and whiskey, and skanking about at the Waterfront is just the icing on the cake.
Now I sit here, probably supposed to be revising but suffering from a terrible attack of don't-want-to-itus, creating a playlist of music suitable for summer listening so I'll have something ace to listen to in my car when I (finally) get round to buying one in a few weeks. Just in time for celebrating the end of “The Season of Revision And Anti-Revision”, and to begin the far more agreeable season of “summer”. Hurrah!
An interesting point of note: In America fireworks are illegal. For everyone. Everywhere. All the time. In the UK fireworks are legal. For everyone (over 18). All the time. But perhaps more significantly, we are taught that fireworks are not toys. Oh no. Yet, should I wish to purchase said potential surface-to-air weaponry where, perhaps, should I seek the supplies for my potentially lethal armoury? Why, the toy shop of course! So, I ambled through Toy Master in Norwich city centre, toddlers and young children milling around me picking up and breaking anything that isn't packaged securely enough, and wandered up to the counter. A bespeckled old lady, the sort you'd expect in any good old fashioned sweetie shop smiled and asked what I'd like. “Why fair shop keep, I'd like some fireworks please”, “Certainly young lad! Here, peruse our collection whilst I serve this gentleman who's buying a small ball for his infant to run about with in the road”. So, armed to the teeth with previously purchased meat product, lesbian tomato ketchup, a lovely set of baps (if only), some bread rolls, and now some good high grade weaponry I returned to my abode, a very happy chappy.
It was lovely to spend some time with Ross and spending it setting fire to the sky and high grade meat product, drinking numerous beers and whiskey, and skanking about at the Waterfront is just the icing on the cake.
Now I sit here, probably supposed to be revising but suffering from a terrible attack of don't-want-to-itus, creating a playlist of music suitable for summer listening so I'll have something ace to listen to in my car when I (finally) get round to buying one in a few weeks. Just in time for celebrating the end of “The Season of Revision And Anti-Revision”, and to begin the far more agreeable season of “summer”. Hurrah!