In all the principal rooms there were large stone fireplaces. I was able to walk into them and look up their chimneys to the sky.
In the midst of the fireplaces a metal fire bucket would be filled with burning logs. These provided the only heating except that at festive times, for example when my parents put on a poetry reading, the boiler that heated water for our cast iron radiators would be turned on with a roar like a liner.
As you came in through the front door the vast wall of unexpected heat would hit you, fresh from that huge central heating boiler big enough to drive a ship, trembling with red flames in its heart on the stone flagged floors of the room it had to itself in the cellars.
Jeremy Sandford FanClub Archives
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