A series of scary frenetic piercing screams from next door told me there was possibly trouble afoot. My brain was in overdrive as my prehistoric legs moved my body as fast as they would take me. Was it murder? Had she fallen? Was it another cobra visitation? Foolishly I had taken a short cut through the lemon trees. On arrival my clothes were shredded and I was bleeding. As I staggered through the undergrowth I saw her barefoot husband, sporting only a pair of very skant sky blue underpants, sauntering across the yard about as fast as a turbo-charged tetraplegic tortoise. He was clearly used to this kind of melodramatic outpouring from the missus. In his hands he was carrying a breakfast cereal bowl which was by the time he reached his wife only half full of water. Luckily he had finished his cornflakes!
Something told me there must be a fire, but where was the smoke? Not even a scent of any. She continued, unabated, to act like it was 9/11 in Thailand. (More likely 7/11) He appeared to consider it to be no more than the heat generated by a cricket rubbing its back legs together. And I was in need of a blood transfusion.
When the crisis abated and she stopped screaming I discovered that she was trying to eradicate some bugs that were living in the rice store (a wooden edifice). With a flame thrower!!! Anyway, you will be pleased to know, we are all safe and no damage has been done, except to my clothes and body. I think the screaming alone would have been quite sufficient to remove the bugs.