I am a bit of a pyromaniac. OK that’s an understatement. I love making and watching fires.

Whilst in the Naval Reserves, I had an amazing opportunity to spend a day at the Naval Fire fighting School, which at the time was at Rosyth Naval base.  It was also my first time in Edinburgh, I got to fight fires and I fell in love with the city, which was later to be called home.

Now before you get excited, fighting fires is messy, dirty, smelly and if your breathing apparatus doesn’t fit well, very steamy. Also the Navy kit is designed for burly men more so than nineteen year old women, with chunky thighs.

All this reminiscing is to trying to explain, that whilst I like fire, I have see what it can do, I have great respect for its power.  I have been in a smoke-filled, pitch black, compartment; I have fought different kind of fires, with hoses that are huge and powerful; and I know what A triple F is (Aqueous Film Forming Foam if you were wondering).

Also, just so you know, my husband was part of the forces support whilst the Fire Strike (Or UK Fire-fighter dispute as Wiki calls it) was on during 2002-2003. He had naval fire uniform, and its smelly and takes up lots of room, not as sexy as you’d thing.

But I digress, I wanted to talk about fire. It needs three elements to survive; heat, oxygen and fuel, but cut one of these elements and it extinguishes.

How it starts; each one very different. How you can nurture a fire; from a few twigs; lighting a match; blowing on the tinder to ignite the fuel.

Fan and coerce the flame to burn; see the fire grow; feed it fuel; do not smother it; watch it burn and feel the heat.

Pour on petrol; see the flame burn bright; watch it as you lose the control; try to contain it; watch it die as it runs out of fuel.

I am a pyromaniac, I like fire, but I prefer when I control it, not when it controls me.

Images from here