unbloodyaustralian wowserism
I think if we are going to be saddled with a monarchy, we should at least have something to compensate. Like one long weekend a year when pissed men with eyes wild with excitement get to light explosives in the street.
We live in a cul de sac and have been steadily breaking our square neighbours into the idea of having a really good time on cracker night. Our third year in, they seem to gave got the point. The next door neighbours invited their mates and their kids, and our new neighbour Marco borrowed our firedrum and set up deckchairs in the front yard. Gossipy Mrs Next Door had filled me in on his severe agoraphobia earlier in the night, and I thought he did really very well, only nearly hyperventilating after one particularly loud bang. At least now I understand that all the time he spends standing on the street corner on his mobile is a therapeutic challenge rather than random posing - but I wonder what she's told him about us? Heh.
If I think about cracker nights when I was little it was all about the kids - I never even registered if the adults were having fun, or how much. The kids got jack of it after a while last night and went to watch Shrek and play cars. Which was silly of them, but it would have been even sillier to try drag a happy warm child out into the cold against their will and the might of Shrek.
The kind of crackers you can buy now are much quieter than the ones when I was little, but still very pretty. We had managed to save a few of the REALLY loud ones from a few years ago, so the show finished with some big bangy ones which had everyone cheering. Then bottles of wine kept appearing, and Achilles showed us how to do proper Greek dancing through the kitchen, past the sleeping Sage's room, down the hallway, around the couch and back through the kitchen to "Great Film Themes No. 2" by The New Hollywood Orchestra (a record that every household needs).
The only damage incurred was the odd hangover this morning - but who cared because Ducky's husband cooked us Eggs Benedict and cranberry crumble muffins for breakfast. Obviously the dog thought it was a pretty poor idea, and she was found at one stage huddling terrified in the shower, but she got over it with a sausage and lots of pats. The cat just looked at me like I was an idiot, but I'm used to that.
We live in a cul de sac and have been steadily breaking our square neighbours into the idea of having a really good time on cracker night. Our third year in, they seem to gave got the point. The next door neighbours invited their mates and their kids, and our new neighbour Marco borrowed our firedrum and set up deckchairs in the front yard. Gossipy Mrs Next Door had filled me in on his severe agoraphobia earlier in the night, and I thought he did really very well, only nearly hyperventilating after one particularly loud bang. At least now I understand that all the time he spends standing on the street corner on his mobile is a therapeutic challenge rather than random posing - but I wonder what she's told him about us? Heh.
If I think about cracker nights when I was little it was all about the kids - I never even registered if the adults were having fun, or how much. The kids got jack of it after a while last night and went to watch Shrek and play cars. Which was silly of them, but it would have been even sillier to try drag a happy warm child out into the cold against their will and the might of Shrek.
The kind of crackers you can buy now are much quieter than the ones when I was little, but still very pretty. We had managed to save a few of the REALLY loud ones from a few years ago, so the show finished with some big bangy ones which had everyone cheering. Then bottles of wine kept appearing, and Achilles showed us how to do proper Greek dancing through the kitchen, past the sleeping Sage's room, down the hallway, around the couch and back through the kitchen to "Great Film Themes No. 2" by The New Hollywood Orchestra (a record that every household needs).
The only damage incurred was the odd hangover this morning - but who cared because Ducky's husband cooked us Eggs Benedict and cranberry crumble muffins for breakfast. Obviously the dog thought it was a pretty poor idea, and she was found at one stage huddling terrified in the shower, but she got over it with a sausage and lots of pats. The cat just looked at me like I was an idiot, but I'm used to that.
posted by Zoe at 12:40 pm
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