I'm not taking him to live in a war zone.
He met a fair share of the neighbourhood while he was out there. They formed in small gaggles and had a good sniff of the night air to try to work out what had happened. Some of them, two women, set off further up the street to see if they could work out something more from the next corner.
I continued to tremble on the sofa.
He continued to talk outside for a half hour. He was invited to a party on Saturday night. My darling hasn't been invited to a party he wants to attend for at least ten years. He still hasn't. Saturday night we have a burning appointment with the TV.
Meanwhile, I got over my fright enough to sit up straight and start to search for information on the internet. There's a surprising lack of information on the internet about explosions in Christchurch. Surprising lack.
When he came back inside the neighbours had jointly agreed that the noise was probably down to a kid setting off a firecracker in a drum.
Fireworks. Building Better Communities Together.