When I was a younger Bull (calf?) I was blessed in luck to the extent that I was a Caseworker rather than a Researcher. There are big differences in the jobs and I must admit I do not particularly miss being a Caseworker as it is the Caseworker, far more than the Researcher, who attracts the weirdos, the freaks, the loons and the serial phone callers. Whilst the Reasearcher will bemoan their misfortune when they have to do some work, i.e. a constituent's perfectly legitimate concerns about a piece of policy cannot be answered by a flimsy pre-prepared briefing, it's the Caseworker who is deserving of sympathy when, from about late August/September onwards, they get more and more swamped by constituents writing in, or phoning, about fireworks. You get complaints from a multitude of angles and perspectives: noise pollution ("Because of fireworks I haven't slept in 3 months"
); animal welfare ("Because of fireworks my flea-ridden mutt hasn't slept in 3 months"
); the Little Englander ("I mean, I like fireworks, but since all these Indians come over; it's non-stop."
Please excuse the semi-colon, it would never be used.); the conspiracist ("Would it not be better to have fireworks without any sound?"
Incidentally, this is one of the daftest suggestions ever. Ever.); the perenial worrier ("My children might pick up a sparkler which could explode in their face causing burn damage, AIDS and pneumonia"
); the constituency bore (of an older vintage) ("I have to put the volume on my TV up so high."
This, ironically, is because you are invariably deaf; so whilst you can now hear Coronation Street and Holby City, so can the rest of your street, ward and borough.) and the Ebenezar Scrooge ("I don't like them they're noisy and I find them in my garden the day after."
This always put me in a bit of a quandary as I really like fireworks. If they piss off pensioners, Little Englanders and animals all the better. I love the noise and I love the spectacle. The concept that it is ok to approve of fireworks when commemorating Guy Fawkes being hung, drawn and quartered but shake your head in disbelief when it's for Diwali is warped. More fireworks. More, more, more. When I am walking home of an evening (the British evening appears to start at about 4 when the clocks are changed) the fireworks actually lighten up my route home, which is significantly more than the London Borough of Redbridge Council has deigned to do.