Fire Down Below
A couple of heat-related matters this week. The first involved waking early on Saturday morning to find a huge column of smoke rising into a clear sky from the derelict house over the road. It was a strange, quiet, unhurried scene – a couple of fire engines and three or four early morning spectators idly watching the firemen go about their business. A perfect fire, really; nobody hurt, a rather ugly house (deserted for years) destroyed, the whole thing giving entirely innocent pleasure to all who saw it.
The second thought inevitably involves the real fire down below, i.e. the one underneath Iceland. I may be behind the times on this, but it seems odd that no-one has yet mentioned Dunkirk. Surely here is the model for the way to repatriate desperate British families marooned in a garlic-smelling ashy mist on the Continent, surrounded by untrustworthy foreigners. Small-boat sailors of Britain, now is your hour! (An update – it looks as if real life has caught up with me, to judge by the latest news)
Finally, I’m pleased to say that The Gardens of Japan is already being reprinted, less than a month after publication. Onward and upward!