Sitting by the fire.

Edward Lyne 11CD

Sitting by the fire

When a bee stung me on the leg only yesterday morning my mind flashed back immediately to my first holiday in Ireland and perhaps the only time I have ever been in more pain. It only feels like yesterday when I was snuggling up by the fire desperate to keep warm. It must seem stupid to others but I can vividly recall being fascinated with the crackling noise and the burning smell, the bright red flow from the flames and the glistening white of the burnt coals which were being let off from the fire. Looking down on the rug where I was resting I found it almost impossible to believe that the rug had once been white, it was now almost black with the amount of coal fragments that had been dragged through it.

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After about ten minutes and when I had finally warmed up properly I slowly began adding pieces of coal and wondering what would happen as I did so. However my fascination soon became my downfall when it became clear that I had added far too much coal. Not wanting anyone to know about my mistake, as luckily I was alone, I hurriedly replaced the excess coals back into the bucket with the tongs and pretended nothing happened. There was a distinct cold feel to the air so I decided it was time to add more coals and seeing as it had been half an hour since I had taken the coals out and the fact that they had only been in the fire for a few minutes I assumed it would be safe to take them out by hand. Perhaps too eagerly I reached in and grabbed the first piece of coal I could lay my fingers on.

At first nothing. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, came an incredible searing pain across the tip of my finger of which I had never felt before or hope to experience again. It took a few seconds to sink in what had just happened, however as soon as it did, I immediately ran upstairs to the toilet in the hope of putting my hand under cold water. I remember feeling proud that I had kept calm in what felt like a truly calamitous situation.

Unfortunately my problem did not end there. The toilet was locked and I had to run all the way downstairs dodging busily chatting family members and furniture in my rush to end the unbearable pain. All the time I can remember my finger was rapidly getting hotter and hotter and it felt like hours had passed by the time I had actually made it to the bathroom. When the cool water ran down the tip of my finger I felt as if I was in heaven and the pain had magically gone. Naturally I assumed after 5 minutes with my finger under the icy cold water, it would be better although regretfully, the pain was there as bad as ever.

By this time it was already late, so I made my way up to bed, hoping that all would be well in the morning. I can vividly remember waking early the next morning and thinking something wasn’t right. I could feel a soft jelly like lump on my index finger that definitely hadn’t been there the previous evening. There was a sick feeling in my gut as instantly I remembered the events of the previous day and the pain I endured. I didn’t know what I was feeling as I had never even seen or heard of a blister before.

Fortunately the pain settled down although for the rest of the holiday I was severely restricted in what I could do. At that moment, I made a vow that no matter how cold it was I would never spend the evening by the fire again!