Well I was going to nip into Specsavers to sort out the new frames for my glasses as they broke the other day. Specsavers is a little busy with evacuation and firemen and alarms right now so I’m sitting in Starfucks across the road instead, rubber-necking the chaos.
Not sure if there is an actual fire as the firefighters don’t appear to be specially taxed or troubled but it’s sure causing consternation and traffic jams along the ordinarily only for buses High Street. Exeter is overly fond of fires over the past year or so; hopefully this is all precautionary and the acrid stench of burning won’t fill the air for days as it did with the old hotel fire last winter.
There is no stench right now, another reason I am hopeful this is not going to become a Dantean level of optical hell. The Starfucks staff are fascinated with the action and keep popping in and out of the place to take further ganders.
One of the designer frames advertised in big letters on the front of the Specsavers store is Diesel. Oh dear, highly flammable. Luckily they don’t appear to have any Propalyne frames. Or Rocket Fuel. Methane. Paraffin.
One of the Fire officers has just come in for a takeaway coffee. That has to be a good sign, right? Unless I’ve slipped inside a Ray Bradbury novel.
They’ve gone away now. Phew, man conquers fire again by making it not happen. Up yours Prometheus!