Maybe it’s the depressive effect of the nights drawing in so rapidly that induces people to look for some release for all their pent up angst at this time of year.

But hot on the heels of Halloween, we have to then endure what seems like a fortnight of Guy Fawkes inspired fireworks.

And the noise and violence of those bizarre celebrations seem to get louder and worse year on year.

We have animals at Baker Towers and the unceasing crackling and whooshing of private firework parties has reduced our Jack Russell in particular to a quivering pool of despair by the time the last screeching rocket has bisected the night sky in the small hours.

And as soon as that happens it’s Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights. More fireworks.

At least Diwali is celebrating something other than a failed attempt to blow up Parliament or frightening children with zombies and creatures of nightmares.

At a time in our evolution when we are rightly looking at some of our traditional practices and modes of behaviour with a fresh eye, it might be time to rethink the custom of allowing any citizen to purchase small explosives and assemble neighbours in their gardens to help ignite them.

The time may have come when we should think about protecting wildlife and domestic animals in inhabited and rural areas by banning large noisy fireworks in those areas and restricting their use to large, organised and professionally executed displays.

I do not imagine for instance that the annual display on the Thames in London has the same disturbing effect on animals and locals as the scores of private bonfire parties that take place in suburban and rural areas.

It has taken our dog a week to settle down in the evenings after a daily barrage of explosions for two or more weeks.

Despite wearing his Thundercoat and being with us, he still tried to dig his way out of existence and hide.

Friends with horses were obliged to be out with them in their stables night after night, calming them.

Some years ago we had a pet goat who destroyed his living quarters and managed to escape from our garden to get away from the banshee screech of rockets.

And people are still injured by the wretched things.