'Tis fireworks night, so once again the length and breadth of the country sounds like a warzone. Although, there don't appear to have been many of those ones that sound like tactical nuclear missiles - at least not yet.
Our party was at church (as ever), and I was largely in the kitchen, helping out with coffees, teas, orange juice etc (refreshments, in other words). And the parents are really going to hate us - we got through a whole 3 litre bottle of orange squash in one evening. Those kids are going to be nice and pumped up with E-numbers, sugar etc. Good job we didn't have coke (as in the drink), or they'd be full of caffeine as well and would be really bad.
Ho-hum.
"Caffeine" is one of those words that doesn't like right however you spell it. Really, it should be caffiene ("'i' before 'e' except after 'c'"), but I just checked and it is spelt like that. Took me three goes, though.
Have been on strike, as mentioned yesterday. So went into town, where there's a huge continental fair on Fargate. It actually felt quite continental (strangely); there were crepes, all manner of sausages, cheeses, pies, olives, bratwursts (yes, I know they're sausages, but they basically were being sold as jumped-up hot dogs), paella and, er, pick and mix (but that was OK, 'cos they were being sold by a French bloke). It was really great.
It was only when you left it, or heard someone shouting in a broad Sheffield accent that you remembered where you were.
There appears to be fierce (note position of 'i' and 'e') fighting outside - well, that's what it sounds like, anyway.
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