It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. (Charles Dickens,
A Tale of Two Cities)
So for some reason, the French celebrate this monumental cock-up of a revolution that resulted in tyranny that has to rate as equal as that it was trying to expunge. Don't get me started.
Anyway, here's a taster:
Fireworks will have to wait (but it was good!).