I’ll be honest, when someone says ‘fire’, I think of something soothing and relaxing – scented candles around my desk and bedroom that make me feel calmer and warmer in the winter months.
Now, I’ve been at university for the best part of two weeks. In that time, there’s been a 7.30am fire alarm, two fire alarms in one day and, just moments ago, a fire alarm went off while I was in a towel after a shower.
The only remotely grateful thing I can say is at least I was out of the shower.
My halls are somewhat renowned for their fire alarms – the kitchen’s get ridiculously warm when anyone’s cooking and say if someone burns something or someone’s food does set on fire, they open the kitchen door to let some cold air in or let the smoke out. This is what sets of the fire alarms.
No one on my floor has set off a fire alarm yet, but I’m not sure who hasn’t learnt their lesson about the over-sensitive fire alarms here and I’m willing to teach them personally, how to cook and not to set off the fire alarm.
Writing this after coming back from the fire alarm and drying my hair a little bit probably wasn’t the best idea. I still feel a little bit sick from the panic and rush from getting dressed in approximately twenty seconds and I’m not happy to say the least. My chest aches a little from having to go out into the cold evening British air with soaking wet hair. If I get ill from this I’m going to be even more moany than I normally am.
(which is quite a lot)
Fire alarms are good – they’re a safety precaution and one day they may even save me from a hot, bitter end. But for now, idiots burning toast and opening the kitchen door is what I associated with that painful, ear piercing noise and I will get just a little bit angry every time I hear it.
Thank you for reading,
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