The Day I Almost Burned the Place Down

Like most small boys I have always been fascinated with fire, and I used to love to watch my Dad or my Uncle light bonfires in the back garden and burn the branches, leaves and other garden waste that we had.

I used to watch intently to see how they would use paper and kindling to get the fire going, then carefully pile on more items, being sure to keep a good airflow going, and not smothering the top with a lot of damp grass and leaves, which would cause the fire to put out huge clouds of smoke, which would always change direction, no matter where you stood, and your eyes would begin to sting and water.

I soon when still in single digits used to be allowed to get the fires going myself in the back garden, and loved trying to get the fires going, even if it sometimes was a huge struggle.

By the time I was in my early teens I had become quite an expert in starting fires, especially in the big incinerator bin that we had, and that helped keep the fire from spreading.

It was great fun placing sticks into the holes in the bin, letting the end catch fire, then pulling them out again, watching them burn, and blowing them to see if I could make the embers glow white hot.

Up the top of the hill from where I lived were some woods, and I quite often used to go up there to play, and there were frequently other children to play with.

The woods were right next to the church, where I used to be in the choir, but led through from one road to the next, and were more often than not fairly quiet.

I loved it in the woods, especially in late Summer or Autumn, when the ferns were fully grown and starting to go brown, and you could pull them up and use them together with some fallen branches to make wonderful camps in which to hide.

This particular day, I must have been 14 or 15 years old at the time, and I was bored still.

As I had done several times before, in an attempt to be "grown up" I had stolen one of my Mum's cigarettes and some matches, and I went up to the woods to try and smoke.

As had happened before and also every time since, I found that I didn't like cigarettes, and in fact I probably have never smoked more than about 25 in my life, the last some 30 years ago.

But I still enjoyed playing with fire, and I was still bored, since there were no other children in the woods that morning, and as I stood on the edge of the woods where there was some nice crispy bracken and some good dry leaves on branches, I thought it would be fun to try and light them.

Fizz went the first match, and I managed to set fire to a couple of leaves, but then the fire went out.

The same happened the next time, but the third time, the leaves caught, but within a few seconds the fire spread, and I can still hear the crackling sound in my mind as the bracken in front of me started to catch fire rapidly.

I grabbed a large stick and thrashed at the fire, whacking at the flames as they spread, trying to put them out, and it was truly only by some miracle that I managed to stop the fire, and to stamp it out.

Another second or two, or a single whack with my stick misplaced, and that section of the woods would have gone up like you would not believe, and I would have been in deep doo-doo.

The whole incident probably only lasted a minute or less, but it gave me the fright of my life, and I dread to think what might have happened if I had not been successful in my attempts to put the fire out.

Many years on I still love to play with fire, but these days my efforts are confined to either grilling on the Barbecue, or as I did when I was young, lighting garden waste in an incinerator.

I will, however, never forget the time that I nearly burned the woods down.

Sadly the woods are now gone, all torn down and replaced by a school, my childhood haunts will never be the same.