It’s amazing, in spite of our modernity, how destructive fire can be. How it can roar through a house, even a town, and leave little else besides ashes in its wake.
And yet, each time it happens, we are shocked anew.
Houses burning out foreign, as sometimes we are wont to say, mean less to us because they are strange, unknown to us.
Whereas a great fire such as engulfed The Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, suddenly became nigh-on personal, a friend almost, as we saw it burn.
And for a while it looked like there would be nothing left, not a stone upon a stone, not a precious relic retrieved from the conflagration.
But thanks to the bravery of the firefighters, and the Seine waters, the fire was brought under control before it could damage the two towers, familiar on the skyline as you approach one of Europe’s great cities.
The modern fire Tender, of course, having a great deal to do with the successful tackling of the fire. And on it, the fire Brigade, consisting of men and women.
