vernon
Harder than Ronnie Pickering
- Location
- Meanwood, Leeds
Last night during an episode of 'Would I lie to You?', Bob Mortimer recalled an incident, when he was seven years old, when he set fire to his house with a box of fireworks when the sparks from a sparkler fell into a box of fireworks and during his speedy despatching of the box to the kitchen, one of the fireworks fell out and set fire to the living room and rendering the family homeless. As he was interrogated by the other contestants and revealed other 'facts', my wife and daughter were incredulous and stated confidently that he'd stretched credibility beyond breaking point.
I confidently voted his tale to be true. It was. They'd forgotten about my own fireworks in the kitchen incident and when I pointed this out they reminded that Mortimer's story couldn't possibly be true because he claimed to be seven years old at the time.
I knew differently.......
As a seven year old living with grandparents, I had the task of lighting the fire first thing in the morning in my grandfather's room - he was incapacitated by emphysema and lived downstairs in one of the rooms with a fireplace. I took the task very seriously and looked forward to Saturday mornings when I not only lit the fire but also got to blacklead the grate. I used to get a buzz if there were glowing embers from the previous day's fire and I could relight a fire without having to totally clear the grate and resorting to newspaper and kindling.
One particular morning I detected the presence of glowing embers and decided that I was going to try a new method of re-ignition. I'd been given a chemistry set for Christmas which proved to be a major disappointment. It provided no flashes, bangs or smells and using logwood as an indicator quickly lost its interest. The one redeeming feature of the set was the spirit burner designed to use meths. I'd experimented with a range of fuels and had settled on paraffin as there was always some to hand. The paraffin in my lamp was going to be the agent of re-ignition.
I carefully rearranged the cinders and embers into a pyramid on the grate and gingerly poured the paraffin onto it. Disappointingly I didn't get a gently waving yellow sooty flame as expected. I was rewarded with a grey/white mist. Striking a match and putting into the mist delivered more than I bargained for. There was a dull thud preceded by a bright yellow flash and a wave of warmth radiating from the hearth. My hair and eyebrows were shortened and my grandfather developed a speed and agility last witnessed in his early twenties as he parted company with his folding bed.
A low pitched howl started. It wasn't me - I was too stunned to make any sort of noise and I wasn't 'leathered' until there was an absence of witnesses.. The howl was coming from the fireplace. I'd managed to set fire to the soot lining the flue to the chimney. I was taken outside rather violently and was made to inspect the damage. Flames and smoke were shooting from the chimney accompanied by a low howling/rumbling noise. A neighbour rang for the fire brigade. They arrived and decided that the best course of action was to let the fire burn itself out after blocking the air supply in the grate.
I just pleaded guilty and waited for the inevitable pain of a slapped admonition.
I felt for Bob Mortimer. Although I laughed at his tale I recognised and shared his panic.
I confidently voted his tale to be true. It was. They'd forgotten about my own fireworks in the kitchen incident and when I pointed this out they reminded that Mortimer's story couldn't possibly be true because he claimed to be seven years old at the time.
I knew differently.......
As a seven year old living with grandparents, I had the task of lighting the fire first thing in the morning in my grandfather's room - he was incapacitated by emphysema and lived downstairs in one of the rooms with a fireplace. I took the task very seriously and looked forward to Saturday mornings when I not only lit the fire but also got to blacklead the grate. I used to get a buzz if there were glowing embers from the previous day's fire and I could relight a fire without having to totally clear the grate and resorting to newspaper and kindling.
One particular morning I detected the presence of glowing embers and decided that I was going to try a new method of re-ignition. I'd been given a chemistry set for Christmas which proved to be a major disappointment. It provided no flashes, bangs or smells and using logwood as an indicator quickly lost its interest. The one redeeming feature of the set was the spirit burner designed to use meths. I'd experimented with a range of fuels and had settled on paraffin as there was always some to hand. The paraffin in my lamp was going to be the agent of re-ignition.
I carefully rearranged the cinders and embers into a pyramid on the grate and gingerly poured the paraffin onto it. Disappointingly I didn't get a gently waving yellow sooty flame as expected. I was rewarded with a grey/white mist. Striking a match and putting into the mist delivered more than I bargained for. There was a dull thud preceded by a bright yellow flash and a wave of warmth radiating from the hearth. My hair and eyebrows were shortened and my grandfather developed a speed and agility last witnessed in his early twenties as he parted company with his folding bed.
A low pitched howl started. It wasn't me - I was too stunned to make any sort of noise and I wasn't 'leathered' until there was an absence of witnesses.. The howl was coming from the fireplace. I'd managed to set fire to the soot lining the flue to the chimney. I was taken outside rather violently and was made to inspect the damage. Flames and smoke were shooting from the chimney accompanied by a low howling/rumbling noise. A neighbour rang for the fire brigade. They arrived and decided that the best course of action was to let the fire burn itself out after blocking the air supply in the grate.
I just pleaded guilty and waited for the inevitable pain of a slapped admonition.
I felt for Bob Mortimer. Although I laughed at his tale I recognised and shared his panic.