Blazing inferno a source of joy

The electric stove in our rented house in Pittsburgh was quite old. One day ceramic insulation broke away from a hob coil, exposing the bare wire. A multi-amp arc leaped from the wire and punched a hole in the base of the frying pan. Oil in the pan ignited and set alight the wooden kitchen cabinets.

My wife told our two daughters to leave the house, closed the door on the inferno, retrieved the cat who - awkward as ever – was basking somewhere unexpected and left the house to await eventualities.

I was elsewhere at the time and had chance to reflect. Yes, I’d have attended to our daughters, yes I’d have closed the kitchen door… but the cat? Upstairs I had a half-written novel in MS. Happily we’ll never know.

The fire was confined to the kitchen and the landlord had us cooking again within twenty-four hours. When he installed new cabinets he paid for us to eat out. US landlords were like that.

The wrecked pyromaniacal stove was put at the end of the driveway and my older daughter had the inexpressible delight of seeing it slung into the back of the garbage truck and crushed as flat as a pizza by the truck’s powerful jaws. She told me this with shining eyes that evening. I was glad. The tiny publishing company I was working for was “going down the toobs” and we were short of money for things like family entertainment. Ah the benefits of technology!