It’s a mild summer evening and I’m sitting on my garden sofa. Unfortunately not because I want to, but because the whole ground floor is inhabitable. It’s filled with the rest of acrid smoke. Minor 2 (who was on a school trip and decided to skip sleep last night) boiled a pot of pasta - and fell asleep. We came home to black smoke wafting around the house. The pot was perhaps ten, fifteen minutes from flames.