Friday 8 October 2010

For the Economy

Crows circle. Smut-flecked blusters carry the screams. Human flesh rises in goose-pimple salute. I clutch my electrical item and join the queue.

For a time, the great bonfire retches smoke, obscuring its innards though not their hungry crackle. The wind off North Ghoul Heath sends fumes at a ground-hugging gallop into the wall of spectators who serenade them with ugly coughs. Someone is chanting a litany of big numbers. Rattlesnake tambourine. A child is sobbing. An old man makes vague noises of atonement into the gale.

I’m here with Ghoul Ordinary People’s Club who have taken matters into their own hands. Each of us has bought a trinket to help a small business. They’re the stuff of impulse buys, or would have been in happier times. Hundreds flock in festive solemnity across the fields to the fire, everyone bearing a not-particularly-wanted good or service. As we near the flames at last, a great murmur shakes the crowd. We shield our faces from the intense heat and hurl our chosen tribute into the heart of the blaze with cries of “for the economy!” and “sorry I borrowed!” and “sorry I saved!”

I bid adieu to my electrical item. If this goes on much longer, I think I may have to blag a second job, or extend my scrimping into a legal grey area.

Then we limp back across the heath, secure in the knowledge that we did our bit. The salty stench of vaporised tears and trifles follows us home.

1 comment:

Castors said...

Then we limp back across the heath, secure in the knowledge that we did our bit.