Bernard Lovel lived by the rules. No lighthouse was ever so diligently manned as his. Every duty was attended to with upmost commitment and thoroughness; even the most trivial and pointless regulation was followed exactly and to the letter.
“Without rules society would descend into anarchy” he would say. Then he'd declare: “A world without rules is a world without Bernard Lovel!" (which is about as close to a joke as Bernard ever got).
Such was his dedication that Bernard even maintained a list of his favourite lighthouse regulations, which he reviewed weekly (on Monday evenings at half-past-eight). The list seldom changed and the top item was always the same: Fire Drill.
Bernard loved Fire Drill as others might love a happy child, an expensive HiFi, or a new artificial limb that is way better than the withered stump it replaces. He looked forward to the monthly Fire Drills like an excitable child looks forward to fireworks. And who could blame him? Fire Drill was so wonderfully rulebound.
These are things that had to be done: Firstly he would pretend to press the alarm button. Then he'd mimic making a distress call on the radio. Finally he'd don a high visibilty jacket and assemble himself on the large rock outside the lighthouse. He would not let himself back in until he had checked his name off on the staff register.
Unfortunately Bernard's slavish dedication to protocol was to be his downfall. For on on November 23rd 2009, Bernard found himself enacting Fire Drill during a Force 11 Storm. Other, less committed souls, might have deferred the Drill, but not Bernard: he stuck to his task like superglue sticks flesh to plastic.
Who knows what satisfied thoughts went through his mind as he sat on the rock awaiting his fate. Perhaps he felt a small wave of pride just before he felt the massive wave of salty water that swept him from the rock. But on the other hand, maybe he finally realised what a tit he'd been all along.
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