November's books

It has been raining so heavily all day, I fear the animals may soon start lining up in twos.

The weather has also scuppered the usual Monday night SPCA puppy walking volunteering. Instead tonight I shall be drinking various hot beverages and cracking the spine of one of these North & South review books which the courier just dropped off.

#bestwaytospendarainyMondayevening

Warning - the noise you can hear are the hooves of my hobby horse

When I become President of the World, the first thing I will do is ban Crocs, cats, noisy neighbours and fireworks.

Tonight, we cleared our calendars (admittedly, only of work) so we could spend hours calming the Hound and reassuring him that the loud bangs and shrieks emanating from the neighbourhood wouldn't harm him. It helped that we had the brilliant House of Cards and Homeland to distract us, but even these weren't enough to assuage my feelings about Guy Fawkes.

Why, in 2013, do otherwise sane beings feel the need to watch large piles of cash burn? Or celebrate the misadventures of someone 12,000 miles away and hundreds of years ago?

Tonight Hilary Barry told me there was a petition to ban the sales of fireworks, that their use should be restricted to public displays. The ban has been spearheaded by the NZ Fire Service, the SPCA and the Vet's Association and, if enacted, would align us with our cousins across the ditch where the public sale of fireworks was banned years ago. I couldn't whip my pen out quick enough.

But until someone at the top of the food chain sees sense, we have to put up with lunatics letting shitty loud bangy things off, scaring the bejesus out of innocent animals. Seriously, isn't it time we grew the f*ck up?!

          

    (Pic credit: Google Images)