(diaryland) March 22, 2002 - 3:16 p.m.

For the first time, I went to a burnt house.

My boss and I had to go and measure it. It must have been burnt only a few weeks ago. It had a neat garden with flowers all over it. The metrebox said 'welcome' on it in purple folk-art writing.

The door was hard to open because it had melded itself shut. We busted the door in, and got overwhelmed by the stink. The whole place was black. The paint on the ceiling was curling off in big chunks. Weird wires were sticking out of all sorts of places. Streams of dried smoke stuck to the windows. The light switch in the bathroom had melted and looked silly and lumpy.

A few melted plastic flowers lay in the corner of the lounge room, but that was all. The only way you knew there had been furniture was to look at the rectangles on the walls where pictures had been hanging.

The fire had obviously started in the rear bedroom. There wasn't a door into it anymore, and one wall was completely busted. I wondered what exactly must have happened. I think a child lived in the room. Maybe it was naughty and played with matches. Maybe a spark came off something. I wondered whether it was asleep or not at the time.

We went out the back to measure the yard. My boss found a huge fig tree and started to pig out on the fruit. I found a little toy koala with a missing leg lying on the grass. I put it in my pocket and wondered some more.

I might take a photograph of it and show you.