Frizzle

Another fire - this time in a thing like a trash can parked on the old spud patch at the allotment.  Mr B made a huge pile of hedge branches 2 months ago, and F had started cutting them into small pieces.

Last weekend it finally stopped raining long enough for them to contemplate an outing - another trailer load of seaweed, and a fire at the allotment.

It wasn't a cold day but as evening drew in and plodding about in the mud and wet grass lost its initial attractions, the most comfortable place to be was clearly beside the fireplace; both the humans were.

Selfishly the humans didn't seem to want to share and I had to work hard to keep my spot in the warm radiance of the fire.  They shooed me away as they poked at it with sticks, prodding out ash and embers and feeding in more fuel, but I siddled around to stay within range of the heat.

Suddenly a burning stick fell off the top onto me.....phewoooaaaa what a pong ...... burned fur!

Mr B chased me and made sure I wasn't on fire, but some fur was definitely singed, and even though F sponged me down when we got home, the smell of singed fur has lingered for days.

I've got a frizzled stripe on one side of my back and it doesn't taste great when I bath it with my tongue.