I hate fireworks – whilst it seems that the rest of the world is going ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhh’ I would rather be anywhere else, which of course I am. I have no idea where this loathing came from, nothing bad firework-wise has happened to me (I don’t think), and I’m pretty sure I’m not nursing some hidden psychological problem (though others may disagree).

A bit late, I can hear you muttering, it was bonfire night on Monday… Yes, I know, but there’s a whole week’s lead up to it with random screams and explosions going off hither and thither before a three day grand finale.

Why have I waited this long to air my views? Because to cap it all there’s some mad bugger in the copse having a whale of a time taking pot shots at all and sundry with a twelve bore and another below us enjoying explosive target practice with a rifle.

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My dogs are at their wits end. Skye, the most affected, is a cowering, quivering, shaking mess. She’s so bad now that she’s clawing down the walls in her distress, her fear communicating itself to Jill and the wolf-dog. Wolf-dog wasn’t too concerned at first, but Skye’s mounting anxiety has led her to believe that these loud noises means the world is not a safe place at all and never will be.

And the pièce de resistance? A ferocious dog fight today. Skye and Jill locked in foaming, teeth-gnashing combat at each other’s throats whilst the wolf-dog egged them on lunging, ‘ Alien’ like, at any flank. All brought on by jangling nerves.

It’s not just the dogs. My massive muscled-up tonne of a bull is beginning to twitch and tremble as another volley of explosions ricochets around the farm. The sheep, the birds…?

But I’m not a total kill joy – I do love a bonfire, especially one in the dark, in the night. There’s something so powerfully elemental, a primordial entity with an intense living energy. It leaps, roars and dances, flames flicking and jumping higher and higher into the night sky, a million firefly sparks showering outwards in intricate patterns far more stunning than any manmade device. Heat burns, face, body, hands and feet mesmerised, I stand glued staring into a hypnotic, engulfing, heart. Fireworks can add nothing, only distract, lessening the union between raw nature and its creation, man.

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