I have hugely happy memories of playing with fireworks, especially bangers, when I was a child. One could buy small, very narrow ones, about the diameter of a pencil, complete with a reinforced end (much like a real detonator) - which were ideal for inserting into large field mushrooms or dried piles of cow poo, and blowing them to smithereens. When not committing fungicide and pooicide, we would decant the explosive powder into lengths of copper tubing stopped at one end and with a small touch-hole bored through - and fire marbles for miles! I say miles, because we never subsequently found any of the marbles afterwards... My most vivid memory of that period was the "Atomic Bomb" firework my father bought in Inverness and produced as a surprise to mark the finale of our family bonfire night - on an evening which was clear, calm and cold. I was permitted to light the blue touch paper and retire. After a bit of spluttering, the very expensive "Bomb" belched a few sparks and then appeared to go out. Just as Dad was contemplating the chances of getting a refund, his prize purchase shot a single projectile several hundred feet into the air before bursting in a blaze of stars which lit up the countryside below. The bang - or should I say BANG - reached ground level shortly afterwards, and it was by far the loudest noise I had ever heard. There followed a short period of awed silence, before the air was filled with the noise of hooves and trotters as every bit of livestock for miles around stampeded! Given that record, I find it difficult in my dotage to criticise others' pyrotechnic indiscretions.