I love fireworks. Although I understand that it is simply setting money on fire, fireworks put an instant smile on my face. I love wrapping up warm to stand by the waterfront, the pretty colours, the shapes, the ones that look like a giant flower framed by little stars, the huge explosions ... yes, guaranteed smiles. I'm not too fussed about them being synchronised to music; it rarely works but no-one seems upset by it.
I wasn't always a fan of fireworks, though. My father was born with a bang on Guy Fawkes Day and, when I was 5, my mother asked if we should let off some firecrackers for his birthday. I wasn't keen at all as I imagined trying to blow up Huntley & Palmers cream crackers, which I quite liked to munch on. Where's the fun in that? Luckily my parents ignored me and we started a tradition of letting off firecrackers at home after Dad's birthday dinner before going out to watch public displays.
The Petone Winter Carnival has just wrapped up with a fantastic fireshow. They seem to get better every year. The weather behaved itself by providing just enough of a breeze to disperse some of the smoke in the air and only a tiny drizzle of rain.
In other news, if anyone has seen my pussy cat, can they tell her the explosions have now finished and it's safe to leave her hiding place and come home?
Saturday, 25 August 2012
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I know it's kind of lame but the teenaged girl inside me thinks that fireworks are romantic. I always feel sentimental when I see a good display - I suppose because they're usually used to celebrate something.
I always insist that my husband is close by when we watch them - yeah, I know - lame haha.
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