.. on being a slow learner

So... the photo is of one of my favorite T-Shirts - Talk about appropriate but of late I've begun to think I may yet have to hand it on...

I was over at my good buddies house several weeks ago and it was a little beyond cold.

It was the type of biting cold that has cues of brass monkeys lined up outside the local wielders shop... if you know what I mean..?

So he's rummaging around trying to find dry kindling and fire starters and stuff - but all to no avail.

The best he could manage was a pile of semi dry chunks of timber and a bottle of some mysterious fluid called Shell 'Fuel light'.

Really, the lack of any instructions indicating what the product was even meant to be used in, should have been the only warning necessary...!

But having dissuaded him from using 98 octane petrol I figured this, roughly Kerosene smelling fluid was a much safer bet than that and therefore we stood a far greater chance of coming out of this fiasco alive, regardless of what it was.

Petrol! Good grief!

My only advice was simply, "looks to me like it's a fuel you can light".

Talk about the blind leading the blind..!

We trundled back inside the house beers in hand, guffawing loudly and being generally manly.

Both his kids were sitting on the couch, glued to the TV. Two boys, 4 and 2 years.

The fireplace is situated on the wall opposite the couch. It's one of those enclosed types with the glass door at the front. The old fire place was an open type and the new one had been installed recessed into the old one so that the door was now flush with the wall. The old mantelpiece was still in place and it was above this, that a large LCD television was mounted.

My mate threw the armful of wood blocks he had brought up from downstairs into the open fire box and proceeded to pour liberal amounts of 'fuel light' over it. After he spent a few minutes of futile searching I tossed him my lighter and leaning in from his kneeling position he flicked the lighter.

"...chick..."

Bawhooomph!

As far as I am aware flame fronts travel at the speed of sound or faster, approximately 300 metres per second. So if there was any credit I could give my buddy at this point it would have to be that he traveled backwards 1 metre in 3 100th's of a second! Impressive! I think even Usain Bolt would feel threatened. And we wonder why sometimes we wake up the next day after an event like this and our neck is sore or our legs ache or there's a strange twinge in our lower back... Speed of sound movement takes some muscle!!!

Anyway, my mate is still on the floor albeit no longer kneeling, looking for all the world like a possum thats just chewed a high tension power line - theres no hair left on his arms, the bald spot in the middle of his head is, well... balder and his eyes are as round and black as a man who's doctor has just told him, he'll be chopping his cock off today!

I eventually managed to stop laughing and after we assured the two boys that this was all a very normal part of getting a fire started (...we couldn't have them rushing up to mom when she got home and spilling the beans. That sort of shit will have you sleeping on the couch for a week!) I decided it was time to step forth and apply my excellent skills to the task at hand.

"So" I said, somewhat waspishly, whilst snatching rapidly, "gimme that lighter you homo, before someone actually gets hurt!"

To be honest, I was surprised that the front of the television was still intact. The fireball that had belched from the fire box had been quite spectacular and had ballooned outwards at first but had quickly flared upwards as it had died and I had seen the outer membrane of the screen buckle.

"Look" I said, in an altogether far too haughty tone, "It's all rather elementary me old mate, the fuel is obviously... somewhat volatile, so what we need is a wicking effect". "We need an absorbent material that will contain the fluid and not allow too many vapors to gather in the air space within the fire box".

Having not just given myself an 'insta-tan' and having used the same technique on a number of occasions, I was feeling entirely superior at this stage.

I grabbed two paper towelettes from a roll in the kitchen and proceeded to form them into rough ball shapes as I made my way back to the lounge room.

I knelt in front of the fire and placed the balls of paper on the grate. I then proceeded to slowly and carefully apply a trickle of 'fuel light' over them. When I was satisfied that the paper balls were reasonably laden with the solvent I placed the little timber blocks in a small pile on top.

"There" I said brushing my hands on my jeans. "Now we simply light the paper and they will work like a torch or much like the wick of a candle, far less dangerous and likely to hurt the kids" I said, a hint of self righteousness creeping into my tone. "Wheres that lighter...?"

"... chick ..."

Bawhoooomph!

If anything I believe my fireball was bigger... but my air of superiority had lulled me into an altogether false sense of security and alas, I did not move backwards at the speed of sound!

What a pair of fucking muppets!

The kids of course have come out of their television reverie and are wanting to see a repeat of the action filled fire lighting game!

I've now got brown hair and a lot less fringe and arm hair and... much to my chagrin I'm now equipped with the apparently, popular, 'insta-tan'!

Oh the shame.

Pride as always, truly cometh before a fall.

I will never forget my friends sideways stare and singular, scorched raised eyebrow. Cutting...

The house smells like the local hair dressing salon on free hair straightening day and it wont be long before buddies better half will be home...

Fast forward to last weekend -

My mate and I have been standing around in his shed drinking beer and bullshitting each other for most of the afternoon. Most of our hairs grown back and by some degree of luck (and a little bribery) the boys haven't told mom what went on and we haven't been sprung by the good wife for endangering her beloved boys. All is well.

At some stage later in the afternoon the lovely wife ahoy's out, "you guys look after the kids I've got to go to the shops" and, "hey it's cold, can you get the fire started please".

Funny you know - 6 Heineken's down and everything just seems so easy...

We roll upstairs after she's left to check on the boys and light the fire.

Damn all the Metho's used up. Never mind, grab that bottle of fuel light over there mate...

So this time my buddies very careful with the amount of the wretched stuff he applies and makes quite sure there is only a hint on the, this time, dry kindling.

"...chick..."

Bawhooomph

"Roll you fool, roll..!!!"

Turns out the stuff is for use in pressurized lanterns and is volatile PLUS!

I think he deserves my T-Shirt.

Currently listening to:

Slinky Factor 3

Nice n Urlich