Now, I know what you’re thinking: why is Kate, the wuss that didn't get her fire safety badge at Brownies because she was too scared of lighting a match, and who still can't light a hob with one now, doing at a fire workshop? In truth, I wanted to find a daring activity that made Editor-at-Large Alexi Duggins' hot wing challenge look about as extreme as getting the 38 night bus home without earplugs. It had nothing on this: this was real, singe-your-eyebrows-off fire.
Despite my similarly extreme wimp levels, I actually had a hoot finding my inner “Master of Flames” with Red Sarah, who's been teaching these kind of fire workshops for some 15 years. It's an exhilarating – and properly sexy – alternative to fannying around Bethnal Green Working Men's Club with a feather boa between your legs. And, best of all, I no longer wince when a stranger offers to light my cigarette with their Zippo.
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