It was 4:30 am and the smoke alarm was going off. This is the smoke alarm that I only ever hear when I test it or when it's cheeping for a new battery. In the hall the lights were dimmed by the pall of smoke. It smelt foul; the pong of unburnt heating oil and a slight tang of wood smoke I thought, although I'm not an experienced smoke taster. I hit the cancel button.
The Aga.
In the kitchen the ceiling lights scarcely penetrated the smoke. Much more useful illumination was coming from the two-foot yellow flames licking out of the Aga door. It was a relief to see that nothing else was burning. I opened the cupboard next to the flames and flipped the switch on the float chamber that would stop the oil flow and retreated to the hall, shutting the kitchen door behind me. Wife and 21-year-old son were on their way. Where the hell was the 13-year-old, given that the smoke alarm was outside his bedroom door?
I told them that everything was under control and that they should check on the youngster and retire to their rooms and open their windows to dilute the fumes. I soaked a tea-towel and returned to the kitchen with the towel held over my face. I soaked the woodwork surrounding the Aga and the parquet floor with water and opened the oven doors and lids to cool the beast down. The wooden cupboard next to the burner was too hot to touch and I was relieved to see the the flames dying away. With the flames shrinking, I opened the kitchen windows to clear the air a bit.
Only then did I notice I wasn't feeling too good. There was a bitter, oily catch in my throat, my mouth tasted as though I'd swilled down a pint of diesel and I had the beginnings of a blinding headache. I pulled a coat on and went and sat on a wall outside the kitchen where I could see the Aga but breathe some fresh air. I assumed my medically-trained wife would have called 999 if the youngster was in any danger; the boys sleep at the other end of the house to the kitchen. Mrs H and I have the warmest bedroom in the house; above the kitchen. I considered calling 999 myself for the Fire service but decided it would achieve nothing but a lot of mess so went back inside to see if anything was smouldering. The air was clearing and the flames had stopped, even inside the burner so I switched off the central heating (not wanting to heat the garden) and went round the house opening windows. Feeling somehow responsible for the whole episode, I went back down to the kitchen and made a cup of tea and watched the air clear.
Then it was time to get sleeping beauty up for school. He had had no idea of the drama unfolding downstairs but he was mildly alarmed at the appearance of his dad. Apparently I needed a good wash.
The message I would like to pass on is; don't assume that the smoke alarm will wake everyone. Those of us with clear consciences may sleep through even the loudest noise. And if you haven't got a smoke alarm, what are doing on the computer? Go and get one now!
OK, nobody died, nobody panicked and our house is still standing. What would you have done differently?
If there's any interest in this post, I'll continue with my analysis of what went wrong.
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Fire ! new
Fire ! new