From inside a house close by came a loud bang, then a second loud bang, and a withered old lady came to the door. She had almost no hair, and bags under her eyes like fishing nets, and wrinkles everywhere, and hands like skeletons. She leaned against the door frame and peered at us through old, old eyes.

"Is that you James?" she said in a querulous voice.

James' mouth dropped open.

"It’s me Mum!" he whispered, "She looks about a hundred and fifty! She'll kill me when she snaps back!"

Just then there was a terrific explosion from somewhere down the street. One of the neighbor's kids shot into the air and came down with a shout and a giggle. We heard some bagpipe music playing from the shrubbery across the street, and then what sounded like a whole pipe band started up, accompanied by loud bangs. It must have been a flock of sparrows.

"Let's get out of here!" I said, starting to run.

For the second time we ran pell mell down the street. It was like a battlefield! Huge blow-offs struck us from the gardens, and terrible smells, and bagpipes started up, and old birds, and old cats came tottering across the footpath, nearly tripping us up. We had to cover our heads and keep down most of the way, because the flowers and leaves that blasted from over fences slapped us across the face. Especially the roses – they really hurt.

When we were clear of the danger zone, we stood and listened. The whole neighborhood seemed to have broken into pipe music. We could make out at least a dozen different tunes.

Then everything went quiet.

"I'm not going home till tea time," said James, ruefully.

"Me neither!" I said.

And we didn't.

And we never ever ate anything we weren’t sure of ever again.