Today it is Guy Fawkes Night.
Peter and Jane are very excited about Guy Fawkes Night.
Mummy and Daddy are taking Peter and Jane to a fireworks display at the park, because Mummy doesn't let Daddy play with fireworks anymore because she says Daddy is a fucking pyromaniac.
Mummy says the fireworks display is going to be magical. This is because Mummy is a gin addled optimist.
Mummy is getting Peter and Jane ready for the fireworks display.
"Put on your warm coats and boots and gloves and hats, and some nice thick socks too." says Mummy.
"We don't need warm clothes!" say Peter and Jane.
"Yes, you fucking do." says Mummy "You are going to stand in a sea of mud, in the dark, in November. Put your fucking coats and gloves on."
Twenty minutes later, Mummy is still attempting to strong arm Peter and Jane into their coats and boots.
Daddy is ready. Daddy has told Mummy approximately 47 times that he is ready, and now he is standing by the door, jangling his keys, and repeatedly asking Mummy why she is not ready.
Mummy has murder in her heart.
Mummy and Daddy and Peter and Jane are at the fireworks display. It is dark. It is cold.
"My hands are cold" says Jane "I want my gloves."
"My feet are cold." says Peter "I want warm socks."
Mummy snarls "I told you so" and wonders if there is a bar.
There is not a bar. Instead, there is a dubious looking van selling sausages and burgers.
"We want sausages!" shout Peter and Jane.
"Are you sure?" says Mummy "You only like one sort of sausages, you say all the others are the 'wrong' sort, even if they are the same fucking sort but from a different shop!"
"We want sausages!" shout Peter and Jane.
"Well, do you promise that you will eat them then?" says Mummy.
"YES!" shout Peter and Jane "We want sausages!!!!"
Daddy pays the unhygienic looking man in the van an unbelievably enormous amount of money for four greasy sausages in stale bread rolls.
"Yuck," say Peter and Jane "These are the wrong sort of sausages. We are not eating them."
"You little bastards." says Daddy.
"LOOK!" shouts Jane "Sparklers!"
"OOOOH! Sparklers!" shouts Peter.
"We want sparklers, please buy us sparklers, we must have sparklers!"
"You will have to be very careful with the sparklers" says Mummy "Sparklers are very hot and they can burn you."
"We will be careful" promise Peter and Jane.
Daddy pays the sparkler man another unbelievably enormous sum of money for two sparklers.
Mummy shouts "BECAREFULBECAREFULBECAREFULBECAREFUL!!!! HOTHOTHOTHOTHOT!!!! BECAREFULBECAREFUL"
Peter shouts "She tried to set me on fire!"
Mummy wishes she had brought a fucking hip flask.
The fireworks are starting. The fireworks are magical.
Daddy is complaining because there are people.
Peter and Jane are still complaining because they are cold.
Mummy thinks about running away under the cover of darkness and never coming home again.
Mummy and Daddy and Peter and Jane are home from the firework display.
The evening has cost Mummy and Daddy in the region of £57.80. Mummy and Daddy are still painfully sober and Peter and Jane are claiming they have frostbite.
Mummy opens the gin.
After a moment's reflection, Mummy throws the lid away.
"FML" says Mummy.
