Burning Bright

I had my fire at last then. After a long, thoroughly satisfaying day working in the garden, and by 6pm not even feeling particularly tired, I decided to get on with it. The day had been very hot, and all the material for burning was baked dry. I took a few precautions first though. The hose was switched on and ready to use if things went wrong, and for once I dragged all the garden rubbish to a series of handy piles instead of getting at them as the fire blazed. This wasn't exactly a pleasant job: the old debris including the hedge cuttings and especially dead plants, weeds and vast numbers of tall oriental poppies was covered in mildew, and a zillion spores flew off them as I raked and hauled. Much of it had been lying piled on the ground for months. As I expected it went up with a roar, and within half an hour it had all burnt. I've had big fires before, huge fires. I've had stubborn fires and mercurial fires, but this was the biggest and the best, a continuous mass of flames until every last bit of rubbish had been devoured.

I had a long email from my friend Mike who I met on a plane to New York five years ago and have been corresponding with ever since. We have books in common, and music, plus a similar take on life. He stunned me all those years ago by knowing that the little River Ouse in Suffolk was where Virginia Woolf had drowned herself. An American! That was the moment when a connection was made. As I struggled with the last clue in the Times crossword he came up with the answer - an obscure Greek mythological reference. Respect. So a few weeks ago I recommended an American author, Ron Rash, to him and he bought and loved a book of short stories. He asked if he could send it to me, and so I gifted him the novel I had just finished. Some giddiness took hold of me, and I warned him that I was sending it by courier rather than mail. Mike ran with the fun, and so began a complicated story, with my man Scarface rowing the Atlantic with the "merchandise" where he would be met by his man Gimpy - Gimpy? Where the heck did that name come from Mike? We've got more and more outlandish and imaginative with each installment, and I guess it won't end until my book arrives in Detroit - his came last week. Each contribution from him has made me laugh out loud, and it just goes to show that you never really stop being a child, and willing to play. Thank goodness for that.