Poem 2015 / 259 Lina's Bedside Light

eMail from Spearmark International Ltd. after I complained their lamp caught fire:


Dear

My name is [redacted] and I am the Quality Assurance Manager at Spearmark International Ltd.

I have received your email today via our customer services.
Please accept my sincerest apologies that you have experienced problems with our product.

We take product safety extremely seriously and would therefore like to request the product be returned to us for a full investigation if that is possible?
To facilitate the investigation could the product be sent to the following freepost address:- [redacted]

Would it be possible to request further information about the product and the circumstances that resulted in the issue as it would greatly assist in our understanding / investigation.

·         What product from the One Direction range was this?  (Bedside lamp / Clip on bunk light / desk light? Etc...)
·         Was the item using battery power or mains power?
·         If using mains power, did you use an adaptor? (this will depend on the product type as to whether an adaptor is applicable or not)
·         What light bulb was used in the product?
·         Age of child
·         What happened?
  Your email says it ‘caught fire’ if you could provide more details that would be appreciated (i.e.; cable / lamp / was there flames? Blackening???)


I think this answers every question:

Lina's Bedside Light

My daughter's clip-on bunk light from her very favourite band
gave solace in the night-time when darkness ruled the land.
She put it on at one a.m. when the parents were in bed
and chatted on the internet with earphones on her head.
At three a.m. She smelled a smell that smelled of burning acid
(a memory of chemistry though specifics were sporadic.)
She looked around her bedroom and her gaze was caught by flames
appearing from the One-D lamp but with eighteen year-old brains,
she photographed the little blues that flickered in the base
and sent a snapchat to her friend who lived in Inner Space.
Unplugging lamp from socket the adaptor seemed okay
and the LED lights faded as the power went away.
The little fire kept flickering – another snapchap sent
“You'd better call someone,” said friend, “a firegirl or gent.”
“My parents are asleep,” she said. “I dare not wake them up;
they've worked all day and night and can never get enough
sleep. What shall I do before the house burns down complete?”
“Open up the window, then, and throw it in the street.”
“I dare not throw it on the lawn in case it catches fire
I'll toss it out the back door where the yard contains the pyre.”
But parental units long in bed, the back door locked up tight
and so she used the cat flap and threw it to the night.
Her bedroom filled with toxic smells, she opened up the window
and almost froze to death after escaping the inferno.
At least she wrote a note on towel, attached it to the kettle
to make her parents proud their lass had shown such heavy mettle.

Regards,


© Rachel Green 2015

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