Ahhh the joys of Autumn!
I have spent the last couple of days acquiring a license from the campaign against aviation to use a wireless set whilst airborne. These means I can whirl about the heavens broadcasting my particular brand of humour not only at the blogsphere, but also at bemused Air Traffic Controllers, other aircraft and mole-like military listening posts.
We were all issued a standard 'Bridget-Jones' bra for head adornment should we wish to call Tokyo as well.
But now I am back. My factory is live and my head in a space to venture forth into the world yet again with mischief in mind.
And Autumn is one of the finest seasons to do so! Oh, spring has all the joys of the sap rising - but autumn holds all manner of treats, cold weather racing, frosty mornings and the first log fires of the year to seduce phillies in front thereof. It is after all, magical the effect that a glass of champagne, a giant real fur throw, a dozen oysters and a roaring log fire has on a young lady's drawstrings. Not to mention a little Sodium Penathol to loosen the morals.
A season of autumn racing - and dark parties in dark towns to behave darkly within.
A season of epicurean delights, not to mention the bounteous harvest of the sea and woods!
A season of frosts and cold ears and 'Come by the fire my dear, you will catch a death!'
The first peak of the season which one gets to show off one's derring-do, is of course bonfire night.
The smell of powder, a slight whiff of petroleum and bonfire smoke! Roasted tatties and the best excuse to let off your out of date flares from the boat while getting blind drunk.
And we get to play with fireworks.
Lots of fireworks
Not for us chaps the weedy excuses of the stuff of Tescos. Oh no.
An hour's careful searching online reveals the joys of the Trade sector:
Rockets that require blast shields!
Cakes that fire for 10 minutes!
The joys of leaping about the garden while a little taken with wine and having the joys of setting light to things and running away while the explode should be appreciated by all, young and old!
Then the joys of taking the starry eyed young lady wowed by your pyrotechnical prowess indoors to the fire, some spit roasted lamb a bottle of burgundy on the table and some rigorous sexual extremism is naturally to be expected, given the fact that all those bangs makes one heart pump so.
Now we all know the firework code. No cigarettes in the vicinity - but a pipe is ideal. Alcohol should not be taken, unless in cocktail form and be careful kids, remember - explosives and Ketamine DON’T MIX.
The explosives give you a nose bleed and the Ketamine doesn't burn.