The Bonfire that nearly wasn't

Jof had to go to work today so I got up late and we managed to choose a gap in the rainstorms to go for a walk. The pub at the end of the road has been destroyed (The White House). We don't mind because it was a rubbish pub anyway, and now it's a series of piles of recyclable materials - metal, bricks, carpets, cellars and wood. I'd like to take the cellar home but it's something I could never do. Few things are more tempting than demolition sites but we thought we'd probably better not slip inside to investigate.
Once Jof got back I sent out my intrepid foreign envoy to seek out new Lego in a new town.

Waterlooville

Waterlooville (W'ville) is a desolate town the other side of the hill. On the Old London Road, it has faded to black since the new bypass was built and has little to recommend it now. The most common shop on its deserted concrete high street was "To Let" and the merry-go-round was entirely without customers. One girl bounced lonesomely on the trampolines that would be busy in Gunwharf. The buzzing Metroplex that isn't Waterlooville does, however, boast 10 charity shops and an amount of mentally challenged individuals that far exceeds the average. But there's nothing like virgin territory for a Lego and bath fizzer hunt, and he came back with 1 Pseudo-Lego truck (compatible) and six fizzers.
This was never going to be enough so we hit Southsea and obtained yet more fizzers and a bag of Lego (many blocks and a Star Wars X-Wing fighter with R2D2, Luke Skywalker and light sabre) from some kind of cat sanctuary.

The planned day has finally arrived where we do the last bonfire and dispose of all the confidental waste from the office clearout. Just in time, it stopped raining. You can't just burn paper (that would be boring) so we also had Ben's old headboard, Nanna's card table, another table, a 3 foot high photograph of an oil rig (should go up well) some planks, a picture of some special niche-market mushrooms and lots of random bits. I set it off with the last of the white spirit and some out-of-date perfume, as you do.

 
The corner-post from Ben's bed turned out to be the best whack-stick ever and it was the last item to go on, when the rain came down. There was (briefly) a Thai opium-smoking pipe, no idea what that was. All the rest of it went in and I was Thor's enemy battling all the cardboard boxes and golfing the 2 litre white spirit container and the Strongbow Perry cans and so forth up and down the fire-lit garden with my new temporary whack-stick, now defunct, of course. Nothing survives the Mungle-inferno, except us.
OMFG. We are into "Last" territory. The last major bonfire. The last major bath fizzer-and-potion night. Soon we will be in Mungleton Manor - and we've got to build it first! Oh poo!