When I grow up (again) and own my own house (again) then I’m going to have an open fire. One I can fill with scrunched up newspapers and chunks of rough wood. I’ll buy an old, worn rug so I can imagine the long-gone people who’ve sat on it before me. I’ll think of them as I carefully build my fire, and my hands will smell of newsprint when I’m done. I’ll settle back on tingling calves and light a match. The noisy ink-on-paper world will shrivel to forgotten nothing but the wood will blaze and spit and rage.
When it’s settled I’ll listen to the quiet crackle and snaps. My fire will smell of autumn rain, dry summer and the promise of Christmas. I’ll turn the lights off and sit cross-legged in front of it. I’ll feel the warmth on my face and the cool on my back and I’ll sip red wine from a big bowl glass. Or maybe I’ll stretch out like a cat and purr, contented in the heat and the dancing shadows and the life of the fire. I’ll smile. Maybe talk quietly and laugh about life and work and the magic of the universe.
Sometimes, in the lull, I’ll turn and watch the flames reflected on someone else’s face as they sip their red wine and feed our fire and the warmth will come from somewhere deep inside me and, as we wear the rug down a fraction further, I will think, ‘this is a perfect moment.’ And I won’t tweet it, or instagram it, or joke about, because there will just be the rug and the warmth and the fire and the moment, all blazing and burning out and I’ll know how important it is to savour it all before it’s gone.
Some people are bonfire people. They want to huddle together in big groups. They want to watch a spectacle. They want to be surrounded by so many others all experiencing the same thing. I used to be a bonfire person. I don’t think I am anymore.
Or maybe I’m just growing old…or growing up..;-)
November 5th, 2013 at 11:45 pm
Possibly one of the most profound and beautiful thing I’ve heard in a long time x
November 6th, 2013 at 1:10 pm
Oh… this is lovely x
November 7th, 2013 at 12:55 pm
That sounds romantic, but…
November 8th, 2013 at 9:35 pm
And what a dull, sad person Sam is. If you want me to be picky (not my normal frame of mind) I bet he drives a diesel and causes dozens of premature deaths every time he pops down to the shops. I also wonder (and this may get moderated) about his carbon fuckprint.
In the unlikely event of anyone being interested this is a measure of the amount of CO2 emissions you are prepared to emit in the pursuit of sexual gratification. I have a good friend who’s girlfriend lives some 200 miles away. I take a small measure of delight in telling him that each time he makes love a polar bear dies.
It doesn’t seem to bother him.
November 8th, 2013 at 5:43 pm
Aww, that’s lovely. I may even re-read this in front of my open fire
November 8th, 2013 at 7:51 pm
There is something wonderful, magical even, about an open fire. There is some sort of deep memory it evokes that still means, well, something to us today. It brings comfort and in the (coughs) romantic sense a rug in front of an open fire is indeed romantic.
A glass of wine can only help. 🙂
November 21st, 2013 at 12:30 pm
Beautifully written. Open fires not only warm but provide companionship, like a pet.
December 9th, 2013 at 11:27 pm
I was never a bonfire person, I would rather find a big tree by a creek or river, with thick branches that almost but not quite touch the ground… and sit under it… thinking of nothing but listening to rushing water and the wind blowing….
February 9th, 2014 at 9:33 am