Love and devotion are not always returned.
Years may go by ... and nothing.
But over a lifetime, who can say what will happen?
The Lower Methil Annexe of East Fife Technical College might be long on name, but it was perpetually short on resources. The main College in Kirkcaldy absorbed most of the money, and the Annexe made do with the crumbs. Cinderella would have felt right at home.
In the role of 'Cinders' was Edward 'Buggie' Sparks, the
Annexe's Welding Instructor; a natural for the part. Eddie
possessed a flair for welding - you name it, Eddie could
probably weld it - counterbalanced by a fascination with
fire. We were assured that he was completely harmless - by
the Principal in Kirkcaldy, no less - when Eddie was
transferred through to Methil. And I have to admit that I
have never met a gentler man. His interest in the joys of
the flame were kept in bounds. Eddie was completely happy
to treat fire as a close confidante, with no desire to
share it with others or spread it around. He was popular
with the students, who called him 'Buggie' to his face.
Eddie didn't mind. A man who often lacked eyebrows or a
fringe had to be fairly insensitive to public
opinion.
Eddie was always ready to help out, and that made him a
true Methil Man.
Eddie had his little workshop tucked away in the corner of
the Motor Vehicle Mechanics Department. Welding was
considered to be an essential part of the Motor Vehicle
trade, as most cars of the period had the rust resistance
of a deep-sea wreck. Winter salt and low grade steel
resulted in crumbling sills and perforated exhausts. In one
classic review in a popular car maintenance magazine, which
published a drawing showing the likely rust weak-spots in
the vehicle being tested, the comment merely said ...
"Rusts everywhere, though the roof is slightly less prone
to corrosion."
Eddie was a master at persuading sheet metal to hang
together, when the less knowledgeable would write off a car
when the sides resembled a lace curtain.
There were always a few students hanging around Eddie's workshop. Doing the odd job for the College - or, more likely, doing a few 'homers', with the College providing the means and the materials. Eddie didn't mind. He would help out with a spot of welding. Even do the job himself if the task was particularly difficult. He didn't so much teach as pass on his skills by example.
A welding shop is never a pristine workplace. Eddie did
electric arc welding, gas welding, a bit of brazing and
even some blacksmithing, so the workshop was always a bit
grubby, and the walls had their own patina of welding
sparks and soot. As a consequence of this, people tended to
bring in any messy job that might be refused
elsewhere.
We had no paint booth . but there was always Eddie's! Spray
painting and gas welding is possibly NOT a good
combination, but Eddie and fire were always on the best of
terms and the risk was never really considered.
Until the day that the students nearly burned the Lower
Methil Annexe to the ground. Complex situations often grow
from the simplest of steps.
Sam Leckie encouraged the students to use their
imaginations, their own skill and talents. He had a stack
of old issues of Motorcycle Mechanics magazines, Practical
Motorist. All kinds of do-it-yourself publications. When
some of the students wanted to customise their bikes, Sam
was all in favour. The only proviso was the location. Sam
didn't want any of the cars in his workshop to be given a
'custom' paint job.
He gave them a stack of relevant magazines (car, not
Playboy!), and pointed them in the direction of Eddie.
Eddie happily gave the refugees a space, and left them to
get on with it.
One of the problems of painting, is the time a newly
painted object takes to dry. A particularly notorious issue
of Motorcycle Mechanics provided an answer. An article on
custom painting a carburettor with aerosol paint. The
secret, the article explained, was to warm up the object
before painting. The equivalent of a paint-baking oven. It
provided a helpful illustration of a carburettor, hanging
from a wire hook, being spray painted. Hanging over a a gas
ring. A lit gas ring.
Of course we all know better ... but these were students.
Left to their own devices, and following the advice of the
professionals. The gas ring that Eddie used for a quick
brew-up, was commandeered. The workpiece was suspended over
the ring; the gas was lit. A moment to warm, then paint was
sprayed.
The result was inevitable.
A fireball lit up the workshop, and in the ensuing panic,
the tin of spray paint was dropped on to the gas ring. The
slightly singed students moved smartly back from the flame,
with a look of awe on their faces.
Eddie - no stranger to fire - summed up the situation. Two
awestruck students, a billowing cloud of smoke, and a tin
of paint - already beginning to buckle - sitting on the gas
ring. A fool would have grabbed the paint tin, but Eddie
grabbed the students, and hauled them out of the
workshop.
Think about it. A chip pan catches fire and what do people
do? They grab the chip pan. First reactions are often last
reactions.
As Eddie, with a student in each hand, stumbled through the
door into the Motor Vehicle department, the tin of paint
exploded. The trio were thrown to the floor, as the blast
exploded through the doorway. Fiery shrapnel tore through
the space where they had stood, only a moment before.
Panic spreads. Rapidly. Sam Leckie, a cooler head in a
rapidly overheating situation, started gathering students
who were running around in a mindless stampede, and ushered
them to safety. Once out of the Motor Vehicle Department,
they scattered in every direction. I was nearly trampled
myself, by the rush along the corridor.
Being ex-Coal Board, safety trained, and a member of the
College staff, I looked into the workshop. In the
thickening smoke, I could see Sam bringing a terrified
student out with him. Incredibly, he had the presence of
mind to bring the class register with him. He pointed to
where Eddie and the two students were climbing to their
feet.
"Give Eddie a hand to get those two out!" Not shouted, but
very much a command.
Even in this emergency, I could see a certain humour in the
situation. The senses are heightened, the attention to
detail is increased. The figures I was reaching for, looked
like some comic trio. Short, frizzy hair. No eyebrows.
Sooty faces. And little, smouldering spots on their
overalls.
Eddie pushed the two towards me.
"Take them out! I've got to go back."
I looked at the flames that were beginning to lick at the
edge of the door to Eddie's workshop. As I pulled the
students towards safety, I was looking at Eddie.
"Why, for heaven's sake! Is there anyone left in
there?"
"No!" replied Eddie. "The gas bottles!"
Eddie dived back into the workshop. I did the sensible
thing, and led the students to safety. Eddie's place had
cylinders of acetylene, butane and oxygen. No place to be
near in a fire.
Once out into the fresh air, I handed my charges to Sam
Leckie.
"Is everyone out?"
Sam checked the class register.
"Yes. They're all out."
He looked at me, then moved to look past me into the
department.
"Where's Eddie?"
"He's gone back to see about the gas bottles."
Sam moved to go back in.
"No, Sam. You look after the students. I'll go get him."
It's not courage. I had hated leaving Eddie, hated doing
the 'sensible thing'. I ran back towards the fire. Just as
I reached the Welding Workshop door, Eddie walked
out.
"Are you OK, Eddie?"
Eddie nodded.
There were tears streaming down his face, leaving white
streaks where they washed the soot away. My own eyes were
beginning to sting.
"What about the gas bottles? Are they safe?"
Eddie nodded again.
"What about the fire?"
Eddie said nothing. Just walked away through the smoke in
the Motor Vehicle Department. There was an air of sadness
about him. The comic face with the tear-streaked make-up.
Like a circus clown. I might have been mistaken, but I
could swear that he held something cupped between his
hands. Perhaps some Annexe mouse that had succumbed to the
smoke?
And yet, there seemed to be a flicker of light between his
fingers, like the flame from a cigarette lighter. How
strange.
A stray draught of air cleared the smoke away between us,
and I could see Eddie close his hands for a moment. Another
tear rolled down that tragic face. Then the hands were open
again.
Whatever had been, was gone.
Eddie walked away.
The atmosphere was clearing rapidly, now, and walked out
after Eddie.
Someone must have dialled 999, because a fireman appeared
in front of me.
"Where's the fire?"
I guess that all firemen are trained to say that.
"In the workshop."
I indicated Eddie's workshop door.
Another fireman appeared, and they both moved to tackle the
fire. Or so I supposed. I was barely out into the main
corridor, when the first fireman was back.
"Well done! You managed to put the fire out before it
spread."
I coughed a bit, spat out some soot, then shook my
head.
"Not me. Try asking Eddie. He was in there, dealing with
it."
We looked. But Eddie was gone. We did not see him until the
next day. And Eddie said nothing.
In the aftermath of the 'Annexe Inferno' (I quote the local
paper), it was generally agreed that the dubious painting
technique was the cause of the fire. Sam Leckie was
credited with his cool thinking, and his part in bringing
all the students to a place of safety. Eddie was celebrated
as the hero who had gone back to prevent the spread of the
fire to the gas cylinders, and prevented a far greater
catastrophe. I got a brief mention as one of those present
at the scene. They got my name wrong, but I didn't mind. I
was glad to be out of there.
The only question, that nobody asked, was how the fire had
been extinguished. I found out, later, that the CO2 fire
extinguisher in the workshop, had been emptied by some
students engaged in typical student horseplay. I thought it
politic, not to bring the matter up. All kind of ways to
deal with fire would be revised over the next few weeks.
And I would keep a closer eye on fire extinguishers and the
like.
I know that the initial fire had been quite dramatic. The flames had spread to the oily rags that decorate industrial workshops. The paint on the walls had started to burn. And yet, Eddie had extinguished that blaze without any kind of fire-fighting equipment.
Am I the only person to believe that Eddie never
extinguished the blaze in the workshop?
Did he, just like Sam Leckie, take those in his care, out
of the building?
Did Eddie hold that flame in his hand; take it with him as
he left.
Did it flicker, and die; unable to survive in the
open.
Were Eddie's tears merely the result of the acrid smoke?
Edward 'Buggie' Sparks.
A moth with his own, personal flame.