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What Were They Thinking?
There are people out here, and I happily count myself among their number, who collect. And there are people out there, and I unhappily count myself among their number, who are fastidious about what they collect, and wish that their collection could be perfect in every way. And then there are those who produce what is collected.
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The Worst Is Over.
A full day has passed, the change from one year to another has moved into the background, and we are left with the reality of everyday life, littered with the remains of fireworks and the occasional drinking spree along the edges of cold streets. Transport returns to normal
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Waking To Destruction.
It is not as bad as I had expected. Ten years ago, walking out of my house in another, smaller, city on New Year's Day, I would be confronted by the debris of celebration littering the road, the pavement, the front of my house. There would be the remains of fireworks shot into the air, or exploded at ground level; empty drinks bottles and cans (prior to them being refundable); paper and other debris connected to the fireworks, such as the packaging.
