Until a few weeks ago, I was a resident of North Kensington, living just streets away from Grenfell Tower.

Over 15-plus years in the area I’ve driven past it countless times, on the school run, shopping, picking up children, dropping them off, filling up the car at the little petrol station it overlooks.

Now it stands out like a rotten tooth, charred and blackened. It dominates the skyline for miles around, visible from all angles, fluffy white clouds showing through its gaping windows. The horror and helplessness that everyone who lives here feels will, I suspect, linger long after this carbuncle has been torn down.

Volunteers sort through a pile of food and clothes donations near the site of Grenfell Tower

For now they do the only thing they can do in a situation this desperate: they find comfort in the small things, a smile or a hug, a sandwich offered by a stranger, an offer of shelter or simply a pair of clean socks.

You always read about people coming together in a time of crisis, so much so that it’s become a bit of a cliche. But seeing this principle in action for the first time has made me understand what it really means — and how truly inspiring, uplifting, it can be.

Sadly, not everyone feels the same. The fire had not yet been fully extinguished in Grenfell when those seeking to fan the flames of hatred were hard at work.

Labour MP David Lammy was the first out of the box, declaring the incident a consequence of Government austerity, and calling for people to be arrested.

Twitter lit up with fury, prominent Left-wing interest groups and the self-appointed defenders of the poor. Someone said the cladding — which many think was the reason the fire spread so quickly — had been put there ‘to make the tower look less ugly for its rich neighbours’.

While politicians squabbled like vultures fighting over carrion, on the ground real people were hard at work, getting on with the job at hand. Sorting donations, ferrying milk between respite centres, handing out water to the emergency services and generally doing their best to alleviate the appalling suffering.

Their efforts rose above class, colour or caste. PTA mums with clipboards and battered estate cars worked alongside shy ladies from the Philippines and elderly Catholic nuns; charity professionals counselled victims and their distraught families while others made tea, bagged up supplies.

People dressed in anything from headscarves to hot pants worked together, coordinating offers of help and accommodation. Phones were buzzing with text message requests for milk, ice, a pot of moisturiser for mature skin. This was a community tragedy; and the community was taking care of it.

Footwork: Thousands of pairs of shoes of every size and style donated to the people of Grenfell Tower

You always read about people coming together in a time of crisis, so much so that it’s become a bit of a cliche. But seeing this principle in action for the first time has made me understand what it really means

St Francis of Assisi Catholic Church in Potter Lane was teeming with volunteers from the immediate environs, separating food donations from all over the country into lunchbags, drawing up a cooking rota, putting together care parcels as specified by relief workers.

The chapel itself was stacked to the rafters with everything from toothpaste to tampons, including a rather magnificent beef stew that a local butcher, Lidgate’s, had delivered.

A call came out for headscarves and a fresh supply was duly produced and dispatched. There was so much food someone was put in charge of taking it out to soup kitchens and charities in the immediate area, so that it wouldn’t go to waste.

Many of the non-perishables were on their way to a warehouse in Acton, for use at a later date.

No one seemed to be in charge but that didn’t seem to matter: everyone seemed to know what they were doing, and if they weren’t sure they just got on with it anyway.

One local mosque said it had collected more than 60 tonnes of clothing, toiletries, bedding, food, medicine.

Volunteers move pallets for supplies for people affected by the Grenfell Tower block

Labour’s attempts to make political capital out of this tragedy are so crass and so ignorant. North Kensington is precisely the sort of place they should be encouraging, not deriding

The owner of a cafe in nearby Kensal Rise, meanwhile, simply packed up shop and set up a stall under a bridge near the tower. ‘I just had images of people with packaged sandwiches and didn’t think that did it,’ he explained. ‘So we brought up some fresh food.’

North Kensington is an interesting place. Occupying the furthest north-west corner of the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, it is part of the newly formed constituency of Kensington, which has just been won (by a margin of just 20 votes) by Labour.

Houses on the St Quintin Estate, an affluent enclave just a five-minute walk from Grenfell, sell for upwards of £2 million.

On nearby Oxford Gardens, a Victorian villa will set you back closer to £10 million. The streets around the tower are home to countless upwardly mobile families. It is a real socio-economic mix. In fact it is the very model of modern multicultural life in Britain, a community founded on proximity rather than narrow cultural terms.

That is why Labour’s attempts to make political capital out of this tragedy are so crass and so ignorant. North Kensington is precisely the sort of place they should be encouraging, not deriding.

Here, people from all backgrounds mix socially and culturally and the haves really do rub shoulders with the have-nots.

This was not only in evidence yesterday in the aftermath of the fire; but has been present for many years through the work of the Rugby Portobello Trust — central to the relief effort at Grenfell — and the many church groups and smaller organisations who raise local funds and expertise to fight for the wider interests of the neighbourhood.

Of course, it’s no Utopia. There are problems with gangs and drugs, and the night of the London riots, back in that hot summer of 2011, was genuinely frightening.

And, it’s true, some of those bankers’ wives are really, really annoying. But I’d rather that than live in some socially sanitised class bubble.

Fact is, for an area — also home to David and Samantha Cameron — where £10 million houses sit just yards away from social housing, there is a remarkable amount of cohesion. Which is the last thing Corbyn, Lammy et al want you to think as it runs counter to their hateful narrative of a country divided along class lines.

No one really knows yet what or who is responsible for this ghastly tragedy. No doubt all will be revealed in time. But one thing I do know: the people of North Kensington will not let it, or anyone else, divide them.