The Alchemist's Christmas

One Christmas morning, very many years ago, while savaging those gifts beneath the tree with my name on them, I ripped apart one particular parcel and discovered that it contained a collection of test tubes, multicolored vials, large cotton swabs, a pestle and mortar and other scientific equipment. The lurid writing on the box announced that this was "Let's Play Bio-Hazard," and there was even a picture of some wide-eyed Dr Jeckyl Jnr concocting a foaming elixir of purple poison. At least that's how I like to remember that particular Christmas morning, anyway. In fact, the gift in question was actually called "My First Chemistry Set," and, as events transpired, it would also turn out to be my last chemistry set.
As anyone who has ever owned a chemistry set is fully aware, the chemicals that are supplied with the set are of the most tedious and unexplosive kind. Consequently it becomes absolutely necessary to supplement your meager pharmacy with whatever you can siphon off from around the house: paint thinner; powdered milk; shampoo; bleach; adhesive solvents; and so on. A chemistry set box doesn't contain any fire, either, so you have to make that yourself as well. Suffice it to say, such home made experiments are no shortcut to the Philosopher's Stone, but they do ring in the New Year with a satisfying bang.

Comments

[Lloyd Mintern]

Yes, the idea of a Chemistry Set, particularly as a gift, is a very dangerous thing, and when the set proves to be deficient of what any child imagines should be it's explosive powers, then naturally frustration and vengeance are the result. You are lucky you are still a biped. We all suffer from Christmas gifts we got as children. I am unable to watch television (properly, as entertainment only) because I once had a Winky Dink set. I think of it still as an interactive medium, and constantly throw things at it.