Logs have rather taken over life. We had a good "emergency" pile delivered on Christmas Eve with the understanding that some of them were a bit wet. We were so pleased with the delivery that we got the Woodman and his family absolutely leathered and a good Christmas Eve was had by all. We have since used all the nice dry ones, knowing that underneath them, underneath two inches of snow, were wet logs.
Finally it was time to move into the wet logs. For a week, we spent our days on our hands and knees blowing into the fire, smugly calling, "I've done it!" to each other and then the other would even more smugly say five minutes later, "Fire's gone out - you stop the baby eating Lego and I'll do it." Basically for a week we heated the house by burning screwed up newspaper and Huw's sweet wrappers. I had to empty a bin liner of ash each morning.
My lung capacity now enormous, I finally got the fire to light and then piled up wet logs around the fireplace to dry out before being put on. It became my life and woe betide anyone who mixed up the order of my log system. Although it worked to a point, it was still fragile.
We asked our trusty woodman for more dry logs, but he'd not got any as everyone else's log piles had gotten covered in two foot of snow as well. We discussed the idea of turning up the heating and putting logs on top of the radiator's, but decided against it.
Finally Woodman felt sorry for us and dug around in his own shed and found some dry stuff and brought it over. We told him what we had been doing and it was good to hear that he didn't have any skin on his knees either and that he'd been heating his house with firelighters for the past week... Roll on the summer.