Friday 3rd July gave me a taster of what was to come. The neighbourhood was alive with fireworks of a volume I have never experienced, and these salvos carried on into the early hours keeping me awake until at least 2am. So I was not in the best of moods when I eventually rose, which added to my general dread about the 4th July. Patriotic banners and decorations had long appeared outside houses, (someone had even spray-painted the US flag on their lawn) while cookies with red, white and blue icing adorned the “specials” displays in supermarkets. There’s normally a large number of “Stars and Stripes” flags around the neighbourhood on any normal day, in fact if I saw those many Union Flags back in the UK I’d think I’d wandered unwittingly into a BNP convention. But as the 4th July approaches even more are unfurled. America tends to be far too self-congratulatory at the best of times in my view, so I was expecting an über expression of fervent patriotism. Thankfully Tina is open-minded enough to believe that America is far from perfect, there is much room for improvement, and shares my view that the outpouring of a pride bordering on arrogance in many cases on the 4th July is fairly over the top.
So therefore you might expect that our 4th was fairly low key and you’d be right. 
The day was dissected by a trip over to Tina’s employers’ to let their dog out for some exercise as they are away on holiday. There was fear that this trip towards downtown would mean crazy traffic and no parking when we returned to the beaches, the most popular gathering spot for the celebrations. But it did give some cause for some celebration of our own. During a visit to an Arlington thrift store, Tina unearthed a brand new dress with store tickets still attached (showing $140) for only $10. Meanwhile I found a shirt, again brand new with store stickers in place for just $4. Plus we found several CDs at $1 each. I was warming to the 4th July. Another bonus was that many of the shops were nearly empty of shoppers, so it was a good time to stock up on weekly food goods. (But not patriotic cookies!)
Back at the beach we had a traditional American meal of burgers and hot dogs (both vegetarian of course) in honour of the great day. But in an unpatriotic move we selected a bottle of Australian Merlot rather than a Californian red, and adjourned to the table in the apartment garden area. 
It was a sultry evening with no breeze, but enjoyable out there talking to some of our neighbours, and watching the increasing number of revellers staggering by on their way to the beach for the firework display. I enjoyed proffering the opinion that America might be a better place if Britain had actually held on to it. It was all taken in good heart. Just before the fireworks were due to start at 9:30pm we wandered down to the boardwalk to watch the spectacle through the waving sea oats in the dunes. It seemed most of the apartment block residents were there, joining somewhere around 100,000 other people. I left the “oohing” and “aahing” to the natives, I’m not overly fond of fireworks. I think they are in the main a waste of money, scare the animals, and if I wanted to be kept awake all night by loud bangs and flashes I’d have holidayed in Baghdad. However they do make an interesting and challenging subject to photograph. The majority of the photos I took were disappointing but here are the acceptable wheat from the chaff. Back at the garden seat we watched the traffic jam crawl southwards until well past midnight, and I stayed out further into the early hours drinking with the neighbours. An uneasy truce? Nah, good friends and willing parties to banter.
