These wildfires are terrifying. We had a billowing blaze in the barley field next to us in Kent only a couple of days ago. Within moments it was yards away from our ancient tumbledown cottage. Mercifully, the wind abruptly switched direction and the flames and smoke moved away, finally beaten down by the local farmer and fire crew. It was soberingly close call. 

The media didn’t kill Jason Arday

Why the ‘Be Kind’ brigade are so horrible

Reform suspend Tim Montgomerie

Those folk in Stourbridge, West Midlands, last week were less lucky, with 19 houses destroyed, and 18 badly damaged. Looking at the photos of the stark, smouldering wrecks, I can almost smell the awfulness. The reek of a burned out, water-and foam-soaked building never leaves you. Just like the heady scent of a Kentish hop, crushed and rubbed between your fingers, it’s impossible to describe, impossible to forget. 

Almost 60 years ago, our home burned to the ground. It could have been so much worse – nobody died, nobody was badly hurt and we were well looked after in the aftermath – but it changed everything. Kenthurst House near Rolvenden, Kent, was a handsome Victorian villa set in a vast garden with fine views across the Weald. On Thursday 8 June 1967, a mighty storm boomed and crackled above........

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