I am not a pyromaniac. I absolutely swear I’m not. Yes, I have a cupboard stuffed with candles of various sizes and fragrances but they’re solely for emergency romantic situations and whenever I want my home to smell lovely but can’t be arsed to do the requisite cleaning. But just picture a dancing bloom of candle flame, isn’t simply lovely. The swaying colours, the flickering warmth. Come on, you’re charmed by the thought, I can tell.
So there are some who are ever so slightly too attached to fire – they go crazy for it in an overly effusive fashion. And there are others who can only be described as less than keen. They harp on about insurance and the dangers of forest blazes and the havoc it can wreak regarding your various worldly possessions. Killjoys the lot of them, cold and entirely unprepossessing. It’s time and past we found a middle ground between these two standpoints. Just wait until you hear my opinions on ice, you’ll be gripped.
I’m not asking for love, ardour or slavering devotion. These would be altogether too overwhelming. Just a mild enjoyment. Perhaps you’ve been burned by fire before (somehow when it’s not metaphorical it’s easier to understand why those who’ve meddled with the substance before have been turned off it) and are unwilling to have the top layers of skin sloughed off again.
Baby steps people, let’s not run before we can walk. I am in no way suggesting that you go out into the world and construct a towering bonfire on a beach and pour some fuel on it to ensure greater longevity. Instead, why not rent a cottage on a wintry night? In the inevitable fireplace you can spend a hearty half an hour or so crafting the ideal conditions for a soon to be merrily crackling grate. Snuggle up with a loved one, forget about the events harrowing the rest of the world and hypnotise yourself by watching the fire. Ah, bliss.
Just like fire – P!nk