My ‘light’ duties set the town hall on fire

As The junior clerk in the town clerk’s office in the late 1940s and early 1950s, one of my duties was to ensure the chief’s fire didn’t go out. One autumn afternoon, Mr James, the town clerk, left for a meeting, telling Mr hanson, the chief clerk, he would return later. Mr hanson told me: ‘David, make sure his fire doesn’t go out.’

I went into the town clerk’s office to find that the fire had collapsed into grey but quite warm coals. I put more coal on and tried to revive it, but to no avail. so I got the can of Klenzene fluid with which we cleaned the Gestetner duplicator. I poured some onto the coals but nothing happened. I then threw in a lighted match. BOOM...! Followed by a roar up the chimney. Within half a minute, lumps of glowing soot were falling into the hearth. I looked up the chimney and saw a roaring orange mass. I went through the connecting door to the deputy town clerk’s office. ‘excuse me, sir’, I said. ‘I believe I have set the town clerk’s chimney on fire.’ Mr hiles went into the town clerk’s office and said: ‘My goodness, I do believe you have.’ By this time, lumps of blazing and glowing soot as big as bars of carbolic soap were falling into the hearth. ‘I’ll have a word with Mr pearson,’ he said. Mr pearson was the chief fire officer, with offices opposite the town hall. ‘er, Mr pearson,’ said Mr hiles on the phone, ‘I think the town clerk’s chimney is on fire.’ ‘Yes, it probably is,’ came the reply. ‘We’ve been watching it.’ ‘Can you send an appliance, please?’ asked Mr hiles, ‘but don’t make a fuss.’

Within a minute, a fire engine roared up to the town hall and firemen swarmed in.

I sought sanctuary in the general office where everyone was looking out of the windows. You couldn’t see the bus station for smoke — and the town clerk was due back at any time. The firemen quickly put the fire out and the mess was cleaned up. I was very fortunate as the meeting went on longer than expected and the town clerk went straight home. Although his office smelled of wet soot, the dear old chap never said a word about it. I don’t think the chimney had ever been swept. I was a smoker then and when I lit up in the general office the next morning, there were good natured shouts of ‘hey, take those matches off him’, ‘fire raiser’ and ‘arsonist’.

From then on, I was known as the Klenzene Kid. David Hall, Ossett, W. Yorks.