The devil's work

The boys returned this morning with faces all aglow. Bruises, bumps and things that ache in the dark after a night of bonfires and a morning of cycling and scootering with the inevitable mini disasters. The solution was egg and chips in Café Paris, homework and shouty mummy again (that's where the devil's work comes in), a thousand requests for spellings and then FINALLY we got to the square for Sant Antoni.

Smoking regulations may have changed, but for the moment, thank God, we can still scare people rigid with bangs and forty foot high flames, throw sparks at their feet, blast their eardrums with the Esclatabutxes and screamers, lose the odd firework in the crowd without mass hysteria and generally have a great time. We didn't stay to burn our butifarrones on the communal ashes, but repaired home content with all demons expelled and safe to bed.