Bushfires

I am not good with bushfires. Not good at all. They make me edgy and tetchy and I hate the smoke and the sirens and the endless helicopters. I spend a lot of time staring out the window at the smoke, then worridly doing a lap of the house, only to come back to the window again. Its a pointless waste of time. The fire that is bothering me today is kilometres away and heading east into the National Park. We can't even smell smoke at the moment. But still I go, around the house, then stare out the window.

I think it's my inner drama queen. I hate to admit it, but if I was ever in a real disaster I'd be the one running around the periphery screaming. Of course I'd like to think that my Britishness would kick in, I'd get all stiff upper lippy and nobly sacrifice myself to rescue a puppy. But given that the very sight of the water dumping helicopter reduces me to a nervous wreck, I somehow doubt it.