The Discovery of Fire

We have fire!




We feel like Paleolithic Persons who have just discovered its wonders.
And there are many: the room glows, the butter softens, feet thaw; soup boils and a cosy aroma of warming bread is followed by the sharp smell of singeing. The ski glove, which we use to open the door of the furnace, melts on the glass when a finger touches it.

Layers of jackets and jumpers are removed.
The breeze from the open porthole becomes a Sirocco before it even reaches us across the room but we keep feeding the flames because we are so appreciative of the luxury of warmth.




Davenham's smart new chimney!
We were hoping for a blue sky
backdrop to our pillows of
woodsmoke but...


It has a ravening appetite this fire; we stoke it and it gobbles the wood.  In the absence of coal we burn Dave and Sue's window frames and their mantlepiece.  The garage door and some furniture are consumed in short order.  Their apple tree provided the kindling.
Dave sends regular text messages: "We are replacing the kitchen - would you like the cupboards?"
Soon, much of their house will have gone up in our conflagration.

The Captain rests some damp planks on the top of the stove.  They hiss and bake away and suddenly there is a plume of smoke.  We rush the wood outside where the bright embers wriggle for ages, even in the wet.
It is staggering, the might of this heat.

Within a few hours the temperature has soared.  We begin to sweat.  It is searingly hot - 75 degrees.  It is unbearable.
We have to go out on deck to cool down.



In the evening it cooks our meal.
Sausages, wrapped in foil, sizzle as soon as they are set in the recess.  I daren't turn my back on the pan of parsnips.

The merits of investing in a Rayburn are thrown into doubt, awestruck as we are by the culinary virtues displayed by our wood-burning stove.
The monetary virtues are rather persuasive too - the heaps we could save on gas and electricity.


We have fire dear Readers and you are guaranteed the warmest of receptions on your next visit.



Cooking dinner.

 Come with unwanted furniture, newspapers, bank statements - the fire's hunger is undiscriminating and insatiable.

Wear T-shirts and shorts.  Bring bathing costumes.
No mankinis please.