Extractor Fires

Long ago In my training I was informed of the dreaded extractor fire. Although they could be caused by cutting through a screw or a bullet that had spent fourty years, (70 years) now embedded in the tree till it was planked up, sawn through providing a spark to ignite the circulating dust. It was also claimed that extractor fires could just happen through s supernatural forces. Well as a devout atheist I presumed there must be a science to them. Whilst working in Fred Baiers studio rachel hutchinson triggered an extractor fire by cutting through a screw. The top bag was punctuated with small black added holes. This, in truth was not a pure extractor fire as there was a cause.
Yesterday whilst alone in the workshop I noticed a slight heightening of the ambient dust level in the workshop. We all deny it but know it to be true. There is little chance of escaping dust entirely, we just do our best and hope for the best. I repushed timber at blade and a spark or two was visible so everything off. What had happened had the square pre hose had collected a couple of thin off cuts creating a foundation for the mahogany dust. Once risen to blade height friction was sufficient to cause a small smoulder of compacted dust. Ray Mears would have been proud if wielding bow and spindle but fire in my fielder terrified me. Water quickly soaked through and it was clear that due to the blockage no sparks were able to follow hose and hit the big bomb bags.
Just goes to show, we all think we are fool proof and this was only a mini accident that could easily fit in a cubic inch of space.
Being of a paranoid nature I talked my girlfriend in to sleeping with me down at the workshop in my camper van so as if anything I had missed were to fire itself up I could leap out and sort the blighter. Our workshop is at the end of pretty little retreat of terrace houses and everyone knows everyone's vehicles, indeed they mostly recognise all their freinds, freinds vehicles. My black long wheel based Mercedes is pretty unmistakeable. A blind man would recognise it from the smell its sat there that many days. Just as me and my girlfriend were cuddling down for the night my dog began barking eradicating any remaining possibility that a local vigilantly could have mistaken us for miscreants. A torch beam shon through the window, spin inning from place to place to take it all in. I mean, we could have been doing anything. Reassuring that the locals keep an eye out for thieves but this went way beyond that. Our name for the fellow is Dogging Dan as that is the sole possible activity he could have been engaged in.
Fortunately we have to move workshop within a year so if anyone knows f a workshop near frome, 1000-1500 square feet please let us know. This workshop has been fantastic for the guy I share with due to it being near his house. For me it has been the worst workplace in a long line of them. Can't wait to retreat from the retreat, the pig lady, dogging dan and all the nosy neighbourhood vigilantes.