All in one day.
I wasn't going to post something today.
It has been a day of sad events. A day to which waxing lyrical would be crass and base. When the world just seems that little bit too serious, as though someone out there wishes to remind us that life is not all fairy floss and rainbows.
ZuckerBaby lost a friend today. He passed away this morning. I shook his hand once, upon meeting. I did not know him but from the grief I am feeling from ZB and the posts from all his friends, it's obvious he was, and is, well loved. It is, of course, a grief that I am feeling for a stranger. Someone I did not know. I suppose what I feel is the pain my girlfriend is going through. A vicarious grief I wish to alleviate from her. I know I cannot and more importantly, know I shouldn't.
When I was roughly thirteen years old my house burnt down. Actually it didn't burn down, just out. The inside. It would have been a lot better in some ways if it had burnt to the ground. Having remnants of a house bulldozed is a lot more expensive than most people would think. I can't remember much about what happened. I was the first person to show up (none of the family were in the house at the time, thank god). I can't remember much. The constant stream of people trying to console me. People standing on the side of the road. And the smell. I smelt that smell tonight. It doesn't smell like a wood fire. More plasticy. Never forget the smell.
I walked out the back of ZB's house and took a whiff. Definately not a normal fire. Not burning off. I walked out the front. A woman was screaming "I'm on FIRE!" from two houses down. A couple of lads were walking back down the street from the nearby pub. We all ran to the house. A little old lady in hair curlers and a pink nighty was running back and forth up her hallway. Smoke was billowing out the door, starting to fill the house. She was trying to get her dog. One of the guys ran straight in. So did the old lady. It was all a little sureal. A little old lady in curlers and a pink night gown. Trying to get back into her immolating house to save her pets. It just seemed far too cliched to be real. Unfortunately it was all too real. The strangers passing by made a gallant attempt to get the hose from the front of the house to reach out the back to where the fire had started but the hose was too short and the smoke too thick.
The fire brigade came and quite frankly I can see why women (and I'm sure a lot of men) find them sexy. It's not the uniform. It's the fact that when that truck pulled up a guy jumped off, donned his helmet, and stolled straight into a burning building like he was popping in to buy some milk and bread. Selfless bravery has quite an attraction.
So the lady survived. So did the pets. The house is still standing but I would imagine the back of the house is pretty bad. It strikes me now that the clichedness of the situation must have been catching. At one point the lady, who as you can imagine was quite hysterical, wailed that there were valuables in the house before attempting to go back in. I stopped her and said that the only true valuable was her. She spat back with such gusto and venom that I'm still reeling:
"NO I'M NOT!"
That's going to reverberate in my head for a while.
A lot can change in one day.
I hope you all the best little old lady. You showed great bravery tonight.
Goodbye Mr Chocolate. You have a great many friends who love you very much and will miss you dearly. I wish I had gotten to know you.
It has been a day of sad events. A day to which waxing lyrical would be crass and base. When the world just seems that little bit too serious, as though someone out there wishes to remind us that life is not all fairy floss and rainbows.
ZuckerBaby lost a friend today. He passed away this morning. I shook his hand once, upon meeting. I did not know him but from the grief I am feeling from ZB and the posts from all his friends, it's obvious he was, and is, well loved. It is, of course, a grief that I am feeling for a stranger. Someone I did not know. I suppose what I feel is the pain my girlfriend is going through. A vicarious grief I wish to alleviate from her. I know I cannot and more importantly, know I shouldn't.
When I was roughly thirteen years old my house burnt down. Actually it didn't burn down, just out. The inside. It would have been a lot better in some ways if it had burnt to the ground. Having remnants of a house bulldozed is a lot more expensive than most people would think. I can't remember much about what happened. I was the first person to show up (none of the family were in the house at the time, thank god). I can't remember much. The constant stream of people trying to console me. People standing on the side of the road. And the smell. I smelt that smell tonight. It doesn't smell like a wood fire. More plasticy. Never forget the smell.
I walked out the back of ZB's house and took a whiff. Definately not a normal fire. Not burning off. I walked out the front. A woman was screaming "I'm on FIRE!" from two houses down. A couple of lads were walking back down the street from the nearby pub. We all ran to the house. A little old lady in hair curlers and a pink nighty was running back and forth up her hallway. Smoke was billowing out the door, starting to fill the house. She was trying to get her dog. One of the guys ran straight in. So did the old lady. It was all a little sureal. A little old lady in curlers and a pink night gown. Trying to get back into her immolating house to save her pets. It just seemed far too cliched to be real. Unfortunately it was all too real. The strangers passing by made a gallant attempt to get the hose from the front of the house to reach out the back to where the fire had started but the hose was too short and the smoke too thick.
The fire brigade came and quite frankly I can see why women (and I'm sure a lot of men) find them sexy. It's not the uniform. It's the fact that when that truck pulled up a guy jumped off, donned his helmet, and stolled straight into a burning building like he was popping in to buy some milk and bread. Selfless bravery has quite an attraction.
So the lady survived. So did the pets. The house is still standing but I would imagine the back of the house is pretty bad. It strikes me now that the clichedness of the situation must have been catching. At one point the lady, who as you can imagine was quite hysterical, wailed that there were valuables in the house before attempting to go back in. I stopped her and said that the only true valuable was her. She spat back with such gusto and venom that I'm still reeling:
"NO I'M NOT!"
That's going to reverberate in my head for a while.
A lot can change in one day.
I hope you all the best little old lady. You showed great bravery tonight.
Goodbye Mr Chocolate. You have a great many friends who love you very much and will miss you dearly. I wish I had gotten to know you.
posted by Tobbë | 11:19 PM
2 Comments:
the smell of a burning house is unforgetable and undescribable. i can still remember melted pigs and pealing duffle coats! and of course there is my pore old pink cassette player!!
Ahh that brings back memories Little Sis. Remember the hole in the back of my wardrobe? I always felt so guilty that my room made it out mostly in one piece but yours got very toasted.
One of the strongest memories I have is going to pick up my matress and my fingers going right through it like it was made of butter.
Oh and for those of you out there who are a little worried about the "melted pigs" comment, they were porcelain nik naks or some such thing.
It's great to have you reading Sis. Welcome to The Circuit (rather bad word play with circumlocutions there.. sorry)
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