You’ve got to love the smell of a bonfire. Just driving past a pile of burning leaves is enough to get a whiff of smoke in the car and it takes me right back to my childhood.

And all the memories are positive, whether it was just getting rid of garden rubbish with my dad or that most glorious of nights, November 5, back in the days when people still hosted private firework parties.

Whilst I still thoroughly enjoy them, bonfires have become far more functional for me these days, as a means of getting rid of garden waste for elderly neighbours that I’ve offered to help.

It started with volunteering during Covid, but if you turn up when you say you will, have a smile on your face and do a decent job, I’ve found people want you to keep coming back.

I’m fortunate enough to be blessed with time on my hands and am happy to help out old folk in the village with a variety of gardening jobs. However, as any decent gardener will tell you, the cutting back and bush trimming isn’t the real hassle, it’s getting rid of the rubbish.

As a result, I’ve been having a series of bonfires and, if I’m honest, quite enjoying the process as I allow my mind to drift back to more simple times just as the smoke drifts across the garden and over the hedge. I must also admit there has been an odd occasion when the level of billowing smoke has taken me quite by surprise.

“But the self-declared village police, like some tweed-clad Sadiq Khan, want the best of all worlds - to live in the middle of the countryside, but also declare their own smokeless zone...”

But, what I didn’t expect was to become the village’s most wanted man with neighbours determined to track me down and take me to task.

I wouldn’t describe my wife as overly nosey but she does log into the residents’ forum and a small group of vigilantes have formed to discover the identity of the mystery burner and metaphorically p*** on my bonfire, or at least get it put out.

I obviously check to see there’s no washing out and windows aren’t wide open before I even reach for the matches but after that, I just fire it up without a second thought.

But the self-declared village police, like some tweed-clad Sadiq Khan, want the best of all worlds - to live in the middle of the countryside, but also declare their own smokeless zone.

Of course, I would never consider having a bonfire if I thought it might be damaging to anyone’s health, but apart from this, my message to all these townies who’ve moved to the country is you need to learn to accept country ways.