Blazing sun was sombre reminder of the tragedy

It was the same kind of day as the one when everything changed, five years ago: a dazzlingly bright sun in the clearest of blue skies.

Yesterday the June sun at Grenfell recalled the heat from the smouldering tower.

There was the same changeable wind that five years ago caught the dying flames flickering along the tower and lit it up again and again.

Five years ago, the sunny optimism of a London heatwave – ice-cream after school – was transformed into a scene straight from hell.

It was fitting that the fifth anniversary service at the base of the Tower was led by children yesterday.

The group of bereaved and surviving children had written music and poetry and their brave faces lit up the stage. In the front row, surprise guests the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge looked on respectfully, below a tower now clad in tarpaulin.

When the names of victims were read out, some surnames came up, heartbreakingly, again and again. Six Choucairs. Five Hashims. Five El-Wahabis.

None of those names will now change by marriage.

DIGNITY

They are the names of children who will never grow old and mums, dads, uncles, aunts and grandparents whose loss does not grow less, only further away in time.

All were read inside the carcass of the Tower, the hoardings pushed aside to accommodate a service for survivors and bereaved.

The dignity and quiet resilience of the families was in contrast to those who have spent the past five years covering their tracks.

As the Reverend Gerald Skinner pointedly said, Grenfell was a symbol of hope but also “a symbol of shame for liars and dissemblers”.

Stormzy stood nearby, a reminder of his cry from the Glastonbury stage in 2019: “Theresa May, have you forgotten about Grenfell?”

Then came the Silent March, the most powerful protest the community could ever hold: hushing the busy streets of West London.

Grenfell residents were failed at almost every stage possible: by manufacturers, developers, building inspectors, the council and even the leaders of the fire brigade.

The disaster has taught us so much, and so painfully, about our country, about justice and about institutional contempt for people in social housing.

But it’s also taught us how kind, generous, loving and resilient communities can be.