6. An unforgettable night in Ross-on-wye by Liz Curtis In the year 2002,or maybe it was 2003, James and David came to stay with me in Ross-on-Wye, Herefordshire. Ironically it was New Year's Eve. They arrived, eyes shining with excitement because they knew they would be able to buy fireworks which they said that at that time was quite difficult in New Zealand.

Rather anxiously I pointed them in the direction of Ye Olde Fire Work Shoppe and they returned arms laden with the most enormous and dangerous looking rockets, bangers, catherine wheels and Beirut-type explosives. They asked where they could let them off and I said in true Pommy style "not here, mate" and directed them to a field well away from my house. They returned some time later obviously satisfied with whatever they had done down there but said they had saved the best for later on in the evening. Again they asked if they could let them off in my back garden so we could all see them. "Definitely not" was my response as my back garden is of the small, patio type in the middle of an old market town and I feared for my house, the surrounding area and its inhabitants.

We then, James, myself Tim ,my son and two daughters of a previous New Zealand girl friend who were also staying with us, started to get ready for a New Year's Eve party we had all been invited to. No-one noticed David was missing. Suddenly the most enormous and thunderous explosion rocked my 250 year old house and more importantly windows. David came through the back door with a huge grin on his face. He had let off the most deadly of his explosives and seemed somewhat puzzled when I also exploded. For him it was a masterpiece of noise, chaos, fire and danger. Georgian architecture and listed buildings meant nothing to him.

Eventually and somewhat frazzled we all bundled into a taxi, including David and the remaining fireworks. I thought I might have registered my displeasure over the inappropriate letting off of fireworks enough for David to "tow the line" when we got to my friend's house who had said he could let them off there at midnight when babies, dogs and small children had gone home. Obviously David couldn't wait and again no-one had noticed he had gone missing. Another enormous bang ripped through the air. Babies and small children were crying and a couple of dogs yelped and ran for cover. My words had obviously fallen on deaf ears, though all our ears were deaf now.

David was hauled in and had his fireworks confiscated until the 'witching hour' of 12.00pm, or is it am. With a quiet look of satisfaction on his face, at midnight he watched with the rest of the party the remains of
his stock of wonderful fireworks burst up into the frosty night sky. God bless you David...