Now that was fucking exciting. Here I was, beer in hand, doing a little coding with the sun beaming through my window, slightly tanning my left arm as the door bell rings out.

On answering, some random tells me that my fence is on fire. It turns out that it's one massive fuck off fire. As tall as the huge tree we have in our garden.

Lots of tiny little pikey children had gathered around the access passage at the rear of the property to look at what was going on. They say they didn't light it, but Mister Fireman says he's as sure as God that some propellant was used.

The flames were absolutely massive. Wider than most americans, taller than my Dad, hotter than an oven. But the firemen came to the rescue, moments before the pots of paint in my shed exploded. I can't beleive how quickly it was spreading. Christ, I fear to imagine what fire could do if it didn't crackle so loudly or if it wasn't bright enough to hurt our eyes or if it lacked that tell tale smoke.

What drama. What damage. What gorgeous hunks in uniform!