without fire

About half an hour before my flat-out mid-day deadline I started to smell acrid smoke. I’ve kept quiet about 'that house' (building site) for quite a while, but it was another rubbish-burning session. I ignored it till I’d met my deadline then wondered: to call environmental health/the council/the fire brigade again or not? I wanted to stretch my muscles, I didn’t want to deal with the hassle, I doubted anyone had any washing out even though the sun was brilliant. I went for a walk instead. Through the watery park that you’ve seen lots of recently, low over the lake, up over the railway lines where high-contrast shadow turned the waiting goods wagons into geometry. Then onto the Devil’s Backbone (isn’t that a great name for a path!) across the fields to South Hinksey village. Where, behind the farm buildings, someone was burning rubbish…