Chthonian delights

Today, I made fire.
Hannah spent most of the weekend trawling through some of mums junk, and most of it was worthless, rotten or festering in a dull mist of whisky, sweat and the dust of a thousand hangovers, so we had a clear-out. Four bin bags are now sitting outside waiting for tomorrow morning’s collection, and anything mum had labelled as a keeper we burnt. It was wonderful. Cathartic, yes – burning her possessions was probably the closest we’ll ever come to actually cutting the memory of her from our lives forever – but it was deeper than that. It was tribal; ancient; a throw-back to our long-gone days that stirred my DNA and took me closer to my fore-fathers than ever before. Standing in our back garden trying to light a fire in a dustbin when there was high wind and a drizzle might seem foolish to some, but I saw it as a challenge to my manhood and I stayed out there until the pile was alight and flames were spitting skywards. All it took was a Ray Mears survival book, some caveman ingenuity, and a 2-litre bottle of barbecue lighter fluid. I watched my creation suck oxygen from the air and convert it to heat and energy and I felt the way our ancestors must have felt a thousand years past on that great day of discovery. I was positively damp with excitement.. or maybe that was the leak in my Wellingtons.

RC 22-10-08
2020 BST