Melted Boots
Brad went surfing in the morning and I was home alone when I noticed the fire had started again and was moving south across the paddock from the forest towards the shed and caravan. I grabbed the rake and drove the fire-fighter unit over. I couldn’t start the fire-fighter pump, so spent the next 90 minutes stamping and raking out the fire on 4 fronts while ringing Brad’s phone repeatedly. I couldn’t get through, but when he saw the missed calls he figured out it was important and raced home. I had kept on top of the fire, but when he got back, I collapsed and wept hysterically with the stress of it all. My feet were a bit hot, as the soles of my boots had melted a bit.
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