"And I will, go sailing, no more..."

A few years ago, no more than five, my son was offloading some old clothes. In amongst what was being thrown out was a hoody with some kind of trendy motif on the front. I rather fancied it. When my daughter discovered I was interested, she told me I was too old to wear it. It was a Buzz Lightyear moment. Remember in Toy Story 1 when he realises he can't fly and he's just a toy and then falls to the ground in slow motion? Cue Randy Newman singing "...and I will go sailing no more." Well, when I was told I was too old to wear a hoody with a trendy motif on the front, that was how I felt. I think I even started to sing, "And I will, go sailing, no more."

From that moment on there have been many Buzz Lightyear moments and I have started to realise that there are many other elements of Buzz Lightyear's life that occasionally fit with my own, like the scene, also from Toy Story 1, when he's 'sucking down Darjeeling' with Mrs Nisbet, the aftermath of an 'I will go sailing no more' moment.

Anyway, there was another one today, but it's a long story that stretches back years and yet, once again, I find myself singing, "And I will, go sailing, no more...". This time, however, it was different, mainly because it had gone on for so long and was looking, at long last, as if victory would be mine.

I've always wanted a real fire because I like to be cosy during the winter months. I just want to sit there watching the Spiderwick Chronicles with a real fire smouldering and a slice of coffee and walnut cake on a plate, perhaps a pot of tea too.

There are other things, like a house by the beach, ie house + rear garden + gate + beach and, give or take, that's about it. Alright, throw in a Fender Precision bass and a few lessons, perhaps a Harley Davidson 883 Hugger (to polish more than to ride) and, of course, that real fire and I'd be made up.

There are, however, problems, the main one being that nobody else in my house wants any of the above; alright, perhaps they wouldn't object to the bass guitar but a powerful motorcycle? Too dangerous. A place by the sea? Too far from London. A real fire? Too dirty and, more recently, too bad for the environment. In other words, it looks as if there are going to be plenty more moments when I 'suck down Darjeeling' with Mrs Nisbet after falling from a great height in slow motion while listening to a sad Randy Newman composition.

I took the first part of the motorcycle test, but quickly realised that motorcycles were dangerous; then, standing at the school gates one morning, one of the other dads turned up with a limp. "You've been skiing haven't you?" But no, he'd had his leg amputated. "Woman pulled out of a side street, didn't see me." I hastily scribbled out the Harley Davidson project from my list and settled for an equally dangerous mountain bike.

The real fire campaign has been a long-term project. "The main thing is we fill the hole. I'm not planning on firing it up every night, it's just a special occasion thing," I would say, decrying the idea of a coal-effect gas fire as "far too expensive" and an electric 'stove' as naff. "It's just a Dimplex heater for heaven's sake." But the argument rolled on and on and on and was never resolved. There were, over the years, a couple of electric fires, which we always described as hairdryers and then, one day we figured a more sophisticated electric fire might be the answer. It wasn't. When we reached the show room and saw them in the flesh we reeled with horror. My daughter, who was there, sent me a WhatsApp from inside the store: "Real fire." And so we ordered one, although, if I'm honest, something nagged at me that said it wasn't a good idea. I was thinking about the environment and the possibility that the Mayor of London would 'do a ULEZ' and ban woodburners in Greater London. I was assured (by fireplace installers) that this was not going to happen and my childish excitement to have a real fire won the day. I signed on the dotted line and paid a deposit that I could have used to buy an 883 Hugger. I wanted the fire installed for Christmas but that wasn't going to happen, but a date was set, 10 January 2024. I thought I'd take the installation day off. My excitement for a real fire grew and grew and soon the day came, they'd be here around 10 o'clock and that hole through which cold air whistles throughout the day and night would be no more.

A van covered in flames arrived. This was it! Two men jumped out. They both looked as if they'd been living in a coal mine or had come straight from Dickensian times. Why is that, I wondered, thinking back over the years to when we called in various fireplace companies for a quote. Dust sheets were laid out! I'd never got this far before! We'd moved stuff from the living room to the garden room, rolled up the rug, placed a dust sheet of our own over the dining room table and our leather sofa, it was all systems go! Soon I would go out and buy some logs and a box of firelighters. Brilliant! I had won the argument!

"Ah!"

"Ah what?"

"Houston, we have a problem," said Fagin. "The inset stove is 350mm but the space is just 300mm. It means it'll stick out from the wall a couple of inches."

"But I thought you'd measured up, you gave us a quote, we signed on the dotted line just before Christmas."

We certainly didn't want the stove protruding out from the wall when it was supposed to be flush.

"The best way round it is a limestone fireplace, it'll cost you an additional ￡930 but I'll see if I can get you some discount."

To cut a long story short we decided not to go any further. My dream, like fine sand, was running through my fingers. My disappointment was physical, I could feel it, I had made my way through to judges houses, the dust sheets were down, the men were in the room, the van with flames all over it was parked in the road outside the house, but I knew it was all over.

Fortunately, I put down the deposit using a credit card, we opted for a refund and in all honesty I felt good about it. I wasn't happy about the environmental impact, I was a little apprehensive about the amount of money I was spending so knowing I was getting my money back AND keeping on side with the environment was a relief. As the day progressed I didn't really want to think about real fires or that bike test or that house by the beach. The bass guitar fantasy came out to play but not for long and soon I could hear something, it was faint at first but it was definitely there. . .

"Out beyond the stars I sail/Way beyond the moon..."