Little Claire’s father is the fire chief. But we might argue that the true chief of fire is Claire herself.

Yesterday I mentioned a festival in the woods near Bristol that I went to. Although I cannot remember how I got home (passim) I do remember that I got the bonfire going. This was a fluke, because in successive years I shamed myself with my dismal firelighting skills, over and over again. It is only in the last year that I have truly gained a command of phlogiston theory.