Yesterday at about 9pm, I had a knock on the door. It’s not out of the ordinary, but unusual, as I know it could of been nobody I knew (they were already at the pub. I was getting ready myself).
Standing at the door, for which you ladies will be insanely jealous, was a big strapping fireman.
“Excuse me mate, but I’m asking you that it will be advisable for you to leave the premises.”
Advisable to leave the premises? Did that make me smirk. Imagine if the captain on the Titanic said “Listen guys. We’ve just hit an iceberg. You can stay if you want, that’s super. But my reccommendation is that it’ll be advisable to jump in the life boats. Thanks ever so much!”. Advisable my arse.
Nevertheless, I was nearly ready to go out (and I never argue with anybody who is tougher than me. Just ask my mum), so after about five minutes, I informed the fireman that I was ready to leave. And so begins: the world’s most half assed evacuation.
The reason for the “evacuation” was due to a fire at an old petrol station just down the road from me. They feared that the fumes from old tyres and fuel may just drift over to our house. Which is wierd. I had never known the garage being there, even though I walk past it everyday. Probably because I don’t drive, I don’t notice garages. Garages to me are for microwavable snacks, 2 for 1 on Citrus Punch Oasis, and Cliff Richard calenders. Nevertheless, this garage was on fire, and bellowing smoke into the air. The firefighters had it under control.
Being me, I thought this was a big event. So I rang me mum to keep an eye out on the local news for any information. She replied with “Your house better be insured Rhys Wynne.”
Nice to see where her priorities lie!
In other news: finally got a good look at the bloggie nominations. Vote for me! Also, vote for this in best article, this for best British Blog, this for best LGBT site (largely due I hung around in the comments section whilst waiting for the bandwidth issues to unbreak themselves) and whatever the hell else in the other categories. Just vote for me. Or I’ll cry.