PINS - Rule Forty-three: Arcs of fire
(One, two, three, four, five of you. What, no girls?)
Arcs of fire are important in PINS. We know this because there are lots of small pieces of paper, whether on old GMC headed sheets, on scraps of matter torn from envelopes, or written on tiny notepads - similar to the ones that sometimes fell out of 1980s Christmas crackers - describing arcs of fire. There is even a piece of A4 paper (plain) with the arc of fire fully illustrated. This drawing is for those playing PINS who use a specially welded shield to hide your intentions from your enemy. (It can be made in the shed on a Saturday when there are no other chores to be done. Just turn up the radio, Sports Report is best, you’ll never be bothered then.) The smiling cartoon head, the arc of fire, and the table and welded shield are all simply and effectively rendered in Indian ink. There’s a caption, too: “Brilliant!” It says.
Arcs of fire are described in this way to show how to direct your units’ fire onto the enemy.
But arcs of fire can be used in other situations.They can be tried out with the golf clubs you found on the school fields. Whack the golf balls against the high school wall and wait for them to come back at you. Dodge at the last minute, no chickening out, soft lad.
You can also throw the metal surveyor’s poles like javelins and aim close enough to give someone a fright. That couple sat snogging on the bank will do. Snogging, eugh. Softies.
Or with the spray cans lobbed into the bonfire near the cemetery. Don’t forget to go back after the chemical explosion - sky went black! - and retrieve the potatoes you tried baking.
And with the cricket ball lobbed at his head, he’s a div! Deserves it!
Throw the frozen sprouts you just found on the market hall floor hard and fast, and with as straight a trajectory as you can manage, at the back of someone’s head. He won’t react because he’s always saying he’s above this kind of stuff, the stuck up git. It’s the only entertainment you will get on the way home. Home is not a happy place.
Throw dry roasted peanuts on the open fire, one by one, and watch their arcs of fire result in a hit in the middle of the coals and a set of tiny but fierce explosions. It's the only entertainment you will get in this pub. No-one likes you as you’re not from this neck of the woods. River runs ’wrong way round here.
Arcs of fire can be worked out when sitting in your car overlooking the vale of Pendle. You were trained, both as a surveyor and a soldier in looking at the ground. You used to go ahead with the FOO team as the company signaller. And you used the Bren. So you know all about that. You can pick out and date an ancient plough furrow - lots of old ones around here, everyone wants them to be Celtic or mediaeval, but most are just from the Napoleonic wars. You remember looking for Bronze Age activity up on the Tops past Burnley, going out towards The Long Causeway, out to ’Tod. Engine fell out of the bottom of the car! Eeh, what a to-do! But a good drive around, that’s what you like. Zip up through Whalley and Mitton and head over Bashall, maybe pop over to the farm and get some eggs and some cuts. They’ve had some rotten luck with all those accidents and illnesses. Such a shame. Come back through Waddington and over the Nick then down through Reed and Altham, maybe check into the church and get the paper from Khan’s - his windows have gone through - there’s some rough tykes about round his shop, it’s a real bad do. The countryside’s pretty to look at, but it’s old-old round here, they’re a rum lot out in these country parts bordering the towns, comical; a different rhythm. When you first came here they were bloody feudal, a mix of mill town and country. Always fighting. Well, you’ve made your home here now.
You can also remember the arcs of fire you’ve seen; they may help you form your own. Like those trails of fire and light seen on Bonfire Night down by the old prefabs where they let off the smaller rockets for the kids of my age. The old fellow in the beret and the big leather coat with no sleeves handing out the sparklers - you keep yours at arm’s length, others are trying to put them out with their hands or by blowing on them. You never liked other kids since being on the ward. Something in your soul tells you that it’s best not to think about that, or about other people.
You can stand in front of the waste ground and go into a trance and pretend you saw the bombs falling on where the houses would have stood halfway down Whalley Road going towards the Greyhound. No-one ever goes into that waste ground. Everyone walks past it as if it isn’t there. Just think of it, people were blown up! “Keep away from it, ugh. It gives me the creeps,” says Mum.
An arc of fire can be a slightly painful gossip with your old crush about her new crushes; and needless to say I am both upset and p’d off with this as it’s all a bit peculiar but here goes. Actually it’s a pity I didn’t do it with him really that much, but then again I don’t think he’s my type anymore - I need someone who can cope with my foolishness - like you, my little fawn - he on the other hand needs a stunningly beautiful ice-maiden type who’s boringly clever, too. It’s still quite embarrassing - I saw him crossing the road the other day and I was paralysed, like a hedgehog in headlights. The other one - you know, Mr Shelves, has now decided I’m hardly worth acknowledging. Either that or he’s got an even madder hot crush on me which means he can’t acknowledge me or look at me except with sideways glances. Anyway I bought a black silk shirt which, when open at the neck, shows quite a lot of clavicle. Will my one and only fashion consultant approve? Do come and check - thumbs up or down.
An accompanying post to this Rule, with relevant illustrations, can be found in the Museum of Photocopies.
