If you happen to be in the Northern Territory on the 1st July, over the age of, say 35, and you WERE’NT born here, you will get to experience a distant childhood memory called Cracker Night. Once a year, for one day only, you can purchase and ignite to your heart’s delight.. A-a-a-h, the euphoric smell of burning sulphur, the screams of young children and the ambulance sirens wailing in the distance – those were the days. Grown men with the exuberance of youth, or probably earlier, hovering over their pyrotechnics, hatching some diabolically spectacular display to impress the gathering of grey nomads watching expectantly from their deck chairs on the other side of the road.
There’s a steady stream of cars arriving and taking up their positions as though at the drive-in. Everyone gets their turn to impress. Ripples of applause and the occasional horn greet a good display. It’s clear that Territory Day is our equivalent to Christmas in July. No expense is spared. I saw one mum and two kids emerge triumphant from the fireworks pop-up with $300 worth -and she was SMILING !
It was good old fashion fun, folks. Nothing PC or woke about it. No Fireworks Marshals or child trauma counselors hovering in the shadows. Just a bunger of common sense and a couple of fire extinguishers seemed to work just fine.