Another fire incident....

But unlike the incident at Mike's - where I very nearly succeeded in burning down the house - Scarlett is much more sensible and has installed a fire alarm. Unfortunately, this one was of the highly sensitive, excruciatingly loud and strategically positioned just out of reach variety.

Shit is was awful. Enjoying a wine or two, I was conjuring up a stir fry (fresh veg, thank god - ref earlier post). Unfortunately, as soon as the dead hen had hit the oil - boomshanka, the bastard alarm went spastic.

With no real chair to speak of, I was precariously balanced on a stool - grasping, reaching desperately at the thing to switch it off. I pressed the glowing button - nothing. I took the cover off, nada. Last option - the battery has to go, sod all. My god - a nuclear powered fire alarm - that makes sense. If this place was a cindering wasteland - this bloody alarm would still be wailing.

I had to do something - I was sure I was moments away from a knock on the door from the certifiably insane neighbour (this woman makes the image of Michael Jackson as a pre-school teacher seem normal) [a bit edgy, but topical. Nice. - Ed], so in short - I destroyed it (but with a dutiful ackowledgement of past form and experience - this will definitely by replaced). Another successful quiet night in for Frit... consistent as ever.