Over the past few years, I’ve had my own personal campaigns against some of the major national holiday celebrations. I’ve vented my distaste over Valentine’s Day, birthdays, and of course, Christmas. Ultimately, my aim has always been to get people to accept the fact that I don’t like these things even though they do. It’s a personal choice, and they’re free to get on with their celebrations, leaving me not to.
That, then, brings me to Bonfire Night. I’ve humphed and grumped about fireworks many times – almost four years ago on Jaiku, and here on the blog two years ago. Perhaps this can be my two-yearly moan.
Whilst my adverse reactions to other celebrations have faded and I even get involved in some of the more fun aspects of them, my irritation with fireworks has only grown each and every year. I’ve just recently managed to put my finger on why.
Fireworks are one of the most selfish types of celebration around. If you’re celebrating Christmas and I don’t want to, it’s unlikely we’re going to cross paths. You’ll be having your turkey in your dining room, and I’ll be taking a nap or something.
Fireworks, though, are an entirely different story. They are incosiderate, loud, obnoxious. They scare cats, children, people who don’t like loud noises, and they make people like me angry.
If you’re celebrating with fireworks, there is nothing I can do to get away from that.