The children were asleep. Myself, the Good Lady and her Doula friend Olette were out in the back garden clustered around the firepit.
Olette was a late addition to the party and had come screeching and fluttering down on her raggedy black wings just some minutes before.
What's that?
Asked the Good Lady as I randomly rammed great big chunks of hardwood into the firepit.
What's what?
I said, cracking open a big box of firelighters that stank of petrol and unnatural things.
The Good Lady eyelids fluttered as if she had been glueing things in the small spare room again.
Those things in the box, are they firelighters?
She said, her tone somewhat unhappy.
I nodded and grinned like a Schoolboy who has been given a ferret.
Oh yeah, baby. These are firelighters. We are gonna have ourselves a FIRE!
I said as I started breaking them up into small cubes.
Isn't that all quite unnatural?
Asked the Good Lady's gothic friend, Olette.
I shook my head good-naturedly in the way of Man. It looked like the ladies weren't quite getting it. This was FIRE we were talking about. It was in our blood.
I lived and breathed fire.
Sometimes after a good curry, I shat fire too.
It's not the most natural thing, that is true. But it saves a lot of time and fair cuts out a lot of fannying about at the start.
I said with my most patient of voices to the two of them.
It was the Good Lady's turn to frown.
Shouldn't we just build a fire like without all the chemicals?
She asked.
I made a face as if one of them had farted in my pocket and I had just dipped a hand in it to look for my keys.
But it takes ages. This way takes literally seconds?!
Olette was already on her hands and knees and poking at the firepit. Moving kindling about and rearranging the logs.
I think we can get it going faster than you might imagine.
Olette said rather smugly.
The Good Lady smirked at me over Olette's back.
Yes, Daddy-Bear. Leave it to the professionals.
I opened my mouth to respond. Then stopped.
Yeah, no worries. I will be inside. Give me a shout when the fire is going.
I retreated inside to crack open a can of beer. I had a chuckle to myself. They seemed to have forgotten one important thing.
We live in Scotland. We spend so much of the year being damp and cold, that even when it's hot and dry during summer, everything remembers being damp.
Half an hour later, the Good Lady came in, smelling of charred things and smoke.
Alright then, you win.
She said grumpily.
I followed her outside. There was no fire. The logs were all in the firepit still, not burning. It looked like lots of paper and kindling had been burnt though.
Olette was poking despondently with a twig at something that might have once been a spark.
I hiked my hands up on my hips and laughed like a man whos farts could kill a cow before hefting up my big box of un-natural firelighters.
Two seconds ladies. Daddy is gonna build us a fire.
