Being born and brought up in Yorkshire which has many moors of peat and heather I have always been aware of the danger of fires.
Shortly after we were married my first husband wanted to experience the Pennines, so we took a tent and went walking. He insisted on pitching the tent on peat - luckily the weather had been very dry - starting a fire and leaving it burning all night, and then was unable to understand why I dug out a large hole to expose the smoldering peat to the rain.
We were lucky not to be killed, but the overnight rain damped down the fire and slowed it down, but it had still made a burnt out patch several feet across and as deep as it was wide.
His total lack of concern in the face of my protests was unfortunately only the first of many such arguments. He liked sailing and we were often in difficulties.
His first expedition onto the Solent in a dinghy resulted in a RN frigate dashing up to head him off from the path of the Royal Yacht, Britannia, in which her majesty was reviewing the fleet. His companions that day refused to go out with him again.
He is actually still alive - the Lord knows how - though my divorcing him might have some bearing on it.
Anne the Pleater :ootd:
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