The sky is on fire, the streets are crackling and the cats are making a yawling noise and hiding under the sofa. It must be New Year again. I thought it might be quieter down here at Tressie’s house but it looks out onto a bridge over a lake and it makes an ideal launch pad for box after box of fireworks.
The neighbours made sure the evil spirits were kept away from their house and making sure in the meantime that I didn’t get to sleep until nearly 2 o’clock.
Today I decided to take a stroll around the lake so get some fresh air. It is a beautiful winter’s day – bright, sunny and above freezing. There was plenty of evidence of the antics of the night before, swept and piled up high for collection.
I checked the air quality on my iPod just before I went to bed and unsurprisingly it had moved from lightly polluted earlier in the evening to “severely polluted”. Even from the sitting room window the city looked like it was cloaked in a veil of smoke, the unmistakable smell of sulphure creeping through the cracks in the window frames into the house.
I understand that the Beijing authorities had tried to limited the amount of fireworks this year but I really don’t know how they can. On every street corner here are firework sellers, stalls piled head high with explosives of all descriptions.
And even in the light of day the sound of fireworks is around all around us.