family · How to be British · Language

Fire brigade

Thursday, June 22, 2017. Daily Brit Wit.

Fire brigade:

Noun

An organised body of people trained and employed to extinguish fires.

“Mother and son trudge up the cement driveway toward the large, open garages. The closer the duo get, voices float toward them but not conversation. A familiar laugh pierces the air and the son grins broadly, tugs thrice on his mother’s hand, and points.

‘Let’s go, Mum!’ He exclaims and tries to pull her forward. 

‘Settle down, Lucas,’ she chides but her benevolent smile soothes the sting. ‘Papa knows we are coming.’ 

Before Lucas can sprint off in a sulk, the fire brigade notices their arrival and steps outside to greet the pair. At the helm, Lucas’s father stands in his casual firehouse clothes and grin as wide as his son’s. The brigade welcome them cheerfully and finally his mother permits Lucas to dash off. The men and women embrace him warmly, but the boy has eyes for his papa. 

His mother trails at a calmer pace and receives enthusiastic greetings, though not as lively as the ones her son had; not that she minds. Of course, the trip to visit isn’t their first or even their twentieth; but now Lucas is a first year and his curiosity continues to develop, the lad has taken quite the interest in his papa’s work. When she meets up with father and son, Lucas is halfway through begging for a tour.

Husband and wife share a glance.

‘Again, Lucas?’ His papa asks with a chuckle.

Precedent Lucas replies, three firefighters step up and claim he needs a refresher. Her son’s eyes alight and Dave, her husband’s longtime friend, reaches for Lucas’s hand and off they go. He asks to see an ambulance first before the engines and then they could go inside.

‘He’s excited,’ her husband states once the crowd disperses and reaches for her hand. ‘Probably won’t get him to leave easily either.’ 

‘No,’ she agrees. ‘Told me on the walk over he wanted to work here.’

He chuckles softly. ‘He’s got plenty of time to decide that. But,’ he glances down at her and she sees the boyish glint their son inherited, ‘we’ll support him.’ 

She half-smiles, though warily. ‘Yes.’

‘Oh, leave the lad alone, love!’ He crows and tugs her into his chest. ‘I meant nothing by it. Lucas is seven. He’ll change his mind. Please don’t worry?’ 

Quickly, she stretches to kiss his lips. They head inside to wait for Lucas’s tour to finish.”

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