Firing up the memories

There is something about a real fire crackling in an open hearth which brings back memories of chilhood.
It's warm and homely and inviting, and until I lit a fire in my new house, it was something I had almost forgotten.
I remember, as a child, sitting around the fire with the family, listening to the radio plays and my favourite program, Journey into Space (long before the days of the successful Apollo moon missions).
I also remember the pink mottled legs from sitting too close.
And I remember the faces and changing images in the fire itself - a benefit from not not having ones eyes glued to a TV screen.
Of course, in those days in the UK we were burning coal.
Today, sadly, the home fire burning wood is regarded as a pollutant.
So much for progress?
Photo: Winter in Tassie