How the sonic booms fell silent

SOMETHING went bump in the night the other night, and woke me up. I have no idea what it was, probably just traffic passing on the ring road, but it put me in mind of a time half a century ago when things would go bump in the night every night.

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You could pretty much set your watch by the time the noise would be heard. More of a ‘crump’ than a ‘thump’ with that crackling edge that close-by rumbles of thunder carry with them.

Some nights it was louder than others. Sometimes you could just about hear it, like a summer storm passing in the distance. Other times it was so loud that you could feel the windows rattle and sense a shift in the air in the room.

Dad would look up over the top of the evening paper and check his watch. “A few minutes late tonight,” he might say. “Must have taken the scenic route.”