Since a very young age I've enjoyed setting fire to things.
I blame my obsession with being born in a landlocked city. I got in trouble at junior school for lighting matches, not much older I set a bin alight at home after throwing burning paper into it. Luckily for me the bin was metal, unluckily I picked it up to run water onto the flames, lesson learned. Then there was the old bomb site at the bottom of the road. It was a prime spot for watching flames dance without getting into trouble.
Through my teens I meticulously built model planes then doused them in white spirit and watched them burn too. I enjoyed bonfire night, not so much the fireworks, they're too noisy, too dangerous. Older still and I started to enjoy cooking on an open fire. Nothing quite beats corn on the cob smothered in butter, wrapped in tin foil and left to cook in the embers.
These days I'm careful with fire. I have a fire container in the back yard where I can listen to the crackle of wood and daydream whilst staring into the flames. I did that last Saturday and it was marvellous. Weather permitting I'm hoping to do it all again with a new supply of scrap wood. With a glass of wine in hand, a cool breeze to fan the flames and an imagination inspired by the fire I'll be blissfully happy.
Let's hope the rain stays away.
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