Jinxed!

So just as I finish blogging about how totally knackered I am from fire training, and thinking how unbelievably hungry I am, the town fire siren goes off. "GORDON YOU BASTARD!" I yell as I hop around on one foot, pulling on socks and boots under my skirt and grabbing half a dry old rissole out of the fridge. I figure it's a boot camp training test, so I race up to the fire station with the rissole in my mouth, clutching house keys and phone, so hell bent on getting there quickly that I completely fail to notice the actual fire burning in a rubbish bin on the corner up from my house.

But it's a real call out - someone's set the bin on fire. Only Paul and Nathan turn up at the station, so they take the light tanker out while I stand by on radio comms, reminding myself not to say that I am Sector Commander One if I have to talk to the guys, and trying not to choke on the demonic stench surging up from my sweat-soaked boots.

The fire was out and the bin completely melted when Paul & Nathan arrived, so they were back five minutes later and we closed up. Nathan kindly drove me home in his ute, recalling his own exhausted state after his training day.

So now I'm going to go to bed with the other half of the rissole, after I've safely burned my boots and buried them at the other end of the yard.