Had a laugh at a BBQ on the foreshore at my boatyard, back-along. We had a bonfire based on an old wooden motor boat that had been ashore for many years, used as a bothy by the old chap who mowed the paddock next door.
When I took over the paddock we craned the m/boat onto the ‘beach’, filled it full of all the rubbish knocking about the yard - half empty tins of paint [lots of those], scraps of timber, oily rags.
The result was like Up Helli Aa, in Shetland.
We were all sat round this great blaze in an up-wind arc, getting tanked. It was extremely hot. Of a sudden, the plastic garden chair of the person on one end went soggy in the heat, the legs sagged sideways and we all went down, slowly, one after the other like dominoes, as the legs of our chairs went too.
How we laughed!
We had disposed of a load of outdated flares in this fire. What we did not do was loose them off into the sky. But one guy did - a red parachute flare - the Big One. Visual equivalent of SOS/999.
MoD Plod at the HM Dockyard came racing up the river. They were Very Cross with yer man.