Woman: What happened here?
Man: The old man used to make fireworks in his attic, you would only see him once a year.
Woman: Once a year?
Man: On the 5th November.
Woman: Guy Fawkes.
Man: He would invite all the local children to his garden for a firework display, the old man was considered a local legend.
Woman: Did you ever go?
Man: Every year, without fail. I would walk over here with the whole neighbourhood of children, we were like a cult, worshiping this old man and his creations, it's funny how we looked up to him like that.
Woman: (sighs) It's so cold here
Man: Here (pause) have my coat
(pause)
Anyway…It happened when I was about sixteen, by then I had developed a taste for the American West Coast Psychedelic scene. My older brother was a roadie and toured with all the greats.
(rummaging through pile is heard)
Look, this picture is from my first time here. We're burning the guy, you can tell that I was nervous.
Woman: That's you? I wouldn't have guessed. You look….weird.
Man: Thanks.
Woman: Sorry. You were talking about…west coast?
Man: West Coast Psychedelia, you know, Love, Kaleidoscope, The Doors…. My brother had just come back off tour and I remember sitting in my room with him the night it happened, listening to The Grateful Dead and dropping his leftover Acid, hoping mum wouldn't come upstairs. I figured the old man's fireworks would somehow be enhanced by this experience.
Woman: And were they?
Man: I didn't see them, I passed out in my room to a backdrop of Cold Rain and Snow. It felt like I had missed out on something incredible.
When I recovered I could smell smoke, even though I was 10 houses down. The old man was getting older and I guess he was losing his touch. He obliterated the place, taking fifteen children with him.
(rummaging through pile again)
Man(as a really lo-fi tape recording): I remember finding all these burnt out playboys, that dirty old man. It felt weird to take them home with me, but I did. I swapped them with a boy at school for his Jefferson Airplane T-shirt.
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