Bombfire

I smell of smoke.

Had a little bonfire in the gas barbecue tonight. Doubtless I'll forget about the pile of ash in there and have to clean it out properly next time I want to cook some red squirrel steaks.

I was burning paper items. Might have looked suspicious on a long lens photo shot, but it was all quite innocent. Cleaning out my desk this morning, I found a carrier bag full of old credit card and utility bills that I was supposed to have shredded when we moved house.

I got about halfway through it, but the office shredder was so flaky and useless, I never got around to the rest. Typical for our office, they tried to get away with a domestic shredder, which could only cope with a couple of bits of paper at a time. They went through about 3 of those before they got a proper one.

So I brought the bag back home and had a little catharsis-by-fire. Even though it was my own stuff I was burning, it still felt like closing the book on something. Maybe, finally, the old address - maybe something more.

I've always been a bit of a fire-bug. Loved it when my old man had a bonfire in the garden. I had an excellent elastic-band-powered balsa wood plane when I was younger. It was a big one, with about 60cm wingspan. But I couldn't resist aiming it at a fire, because I wanted to see it go down in flames.

I could have been an arsonist, but I chose another career. So I guess we can add failed arsonist to my list of other failures.