fire

Further proof that I am cursed: The Fire.
After a leisurely lie-in to try to forget the shitty week, I got up in time to watch my favourite shite American soap. There was murder, there was intrigue, there was budding romance, there was a mysterious smell of smoke. Hmmmm, I thought. Curious time to light a chimney, what with it being 11am and not very cold outside. But I do love the scent of winter fires, and found it almost comforting. For about five minutes, at which point the odour became stronger and slightly worrying. Richard couldn't even smell it - I have a hypersensitive nose following a nose operation I won't go into details about - but trusted me enough to investigate. He had just turned on the water heater for his shower, and being a paranoid person, went directly there to check. As soon as he opened the cupboard latch where the heater is kept, smoke billowed out.
Oh shit.
There seemed to be a bunch of teeshirts stuffed around the heater. Seemed stupid to me, and I suggested maybe one of these had caught fire. So Richard climbed up, pulled them out and dropped them in the sink, but none were so much as singed. And the smoke kept coming.
We ran around the flat opening all the windows. There was a brief moment of panic and indecision. Do we call the fure brigade and trouble them with such a minor thing? Richard suggested calling his mother first to ask her. Hmmm. One thing was for certain, we must turn off the gas and electricity. As Richard ran off to do that, I stayed and watched the smoke. It had largely dissipated, and we were hopeful that it was nothing. But then it returned. Richard phoned 999 while I got dressed and tidied the flat. Priorities, eh? Can't have the firemen rushing into a messy flat can we?
They appeared within minutes, and by that time much of the smoke was gone, although the stench of it remained. Richard was feeling mighty guilty for dragging them out, especially when he saw not one or two, but FOUR fire engines pull up and block the entire street. Oops. He was apologetic as he led them up the stairs and into the flat, all eight of them. They called for a ladder and started to investigate. That's when I noticed the smoke outside. When I pointed it out, they suggested we leave the building. I grabbed my wallet and keys and left. Richard didn't even have time to grab a sweater.
When we got outside we looked up and realised there was smoke pouring out from the roof. Oh shit. One of the firemen came down and asked us if we had a key to the attic, which we did not. Others were busy suiting up and putting on masks. They pulled in the hoses and we cursed ourselves for not getting home insurance. If there was a fire in the roof and they doused it with water, we could imagine that water spot in the living room, directly over all the electrical equipment, giving way and flooding the flat and... oh dear the possibilities were too grim to consider. And to think, Richard had phoned around for insurance quotes just last week. Argh!
At this point we were still convinced it was our fault, that the water heater had been faulty or something. But then we saw the windows open in the flat next door. We could barely see the bright yellow helmet of the fireman inside, the windows and air were so black with soot. It had been the neighbour's house. A faulty kettle had ignited the entire kitchen, the smoke rising into the attic and down into our flat through the water heater cupboard. Lordy. Considering the two flats share a wall - and the roof of course - we were mighty lucky to have called when we did.
The woman who lived there wasn't home at the time, but returned halfway through the firefighting effort. Poor thing collapsed into tears as they told her. Then she came over to us to thank us for calling when we did. It was a bit overwhelming. We were apparently the only people home in the entire building. God knows what would have happened had we not been spending a lazy day in!
We were stuck outside for nearly two hours, freezing our asses off and praying that nothing was damaged. As it turns out, we were really lucky. There is still a lingering pervasive stench of smoke, but that's all. The neighbour, however, wasn't so lucky. Her kitchen is gone, she's got a gaping hole in the ceiling, and even the front door was ruined when they broke in. But at least not all of her possessions were ruined. And the firefighters were amazing. They even carried all her ruined appliances and furniture down to the skip, and helped her clean up all the soot. A policeman gave her numbers for all sorts of servicemen, and we let her use our phone to call them all.
It was rather awkward, however. What exactly is the etiquette following a house fire? Beyond the obvious offering the woman a cup of tea, we were at a loss of what to do. She had plans to go to her mother's to stay, but had to wait around for at least an hour until a repairman could come and secure her door. We panicked thinking we would have to entertain her on our tiny sofa for all that time, but luckily she wanted to go be on her own with her remaining things and cry. Then some other people came round and took care of her. Phew.
We were eager to get the hell out of the place, away from the smoke especially. But we were also a bit wary of leaving. And with good reason, it turned out, because an hour later we heard sirens again and another four fire engines pulled up front. Turns out, the neighbour had been standing in her burnt out kitchen chatting with someone, waiting for the repairman when she glanced up into the hole in the ceiling and noticed glowing embers. The insulation in the roof had caught fire again. Lordy.
To say I was jumpy after all that excitement would be an understatement. I needed to get out and do something, so I dragged Richard out for a walk to Matt's, where we told the story and watched a bit of South Park. Then we wandered back to shower and assess the smoke damage, which seemed fine actually... until we had to close the windows and turn the heat on. Then all the latent fumes came out and I nearly choked. Shit.
I felt sick and headachey and tired so I took a nap and Richard woke me up an hour later with a glorious dinner he had just cooked. Aww. Bless him! Refreshed, I got ready for what I promised myself would be a great night out, and surprisingly it was! I decided I would drink. And I did. A lot. I sampled every type of rum on offer, sometimes twice. And I danced until I nearly collapsed. On stage. Sometimes alone. Yeah. I'm sure I looked mighty cool. I'm sure I was the envy of everyone there. I'm sure.
This morning I made panackes and so far, nothing horrible has happened. Fingers crossed!