I have spent most of today making an amazing new bread-baking oven which fits into the flue of the wood-burning stove. No, the bread will not come out smoked: the hot flue gases enter the bottom of a chamber just above the stove, and go out again at the top of the chamber, continuing normally through the rest of the flue. The oven itself is a metal box suspended within the chamber, with, of course, an entrance that passes through the wall of the chamber. I have not yet baked a loaf in it, but am reasonably confident it will work.
Inventing, designing, making, and fitting this have exhausted me. I had planned to write something about so-called 'Genre Fiction'. Tomorrow perhaps.
A flea and a fly in a flue:
Said the fly 'Let us flee!'
Said the flea 'Let us fly!'
So they flew through a flaw in the flue.