Migration is often discussed in the abstract — through headlines, statistics, or polarised political debates. But at its heart, it is a deeply human experience.

I’ve long been fascinated by how different worldviews shape our understanding of immigration. Why are people so afraid of newcomers? Why do others risk everything to find safety? And what happens when we forget that we all want the same things: safety, dignity, and a future for those we love?

One of the things I often do — whether in coaching or reflection — is imagine a table with empty seats around it. Each seat belongs to someone with a different perspective, real or imagined, and we try to sit in each one in turn: to see what they see, feel what they feel, and understand the world through their eyes.

This article offers five imagined perspectives — each grounded in real experiences and evidence — on migration into the UK today. It’s not about finding one correct answer. It’s about listening to each voice in good faith and asking: what might happen if we all sat at the same table?

Chair 1 — The Seeker of Safety

“I do not want your country. I want my life back.”

I didn’t want to leave. I loved my home — even though it was crumbling. I loved the markets, my mother’s cooking, my best friend’s voice. But when the soldiers came, everything changed.

My cousin vanished. My school was bombed. My father began to cry in silence. That’s when I knew.

I left because I wanted to live. I crossed borders and seas not because I hated my country, but because I loved it too much to die in it.

I am not here to invade or take. I am here to build again. I want to sleep without fear. I want my brother to grow up. I want to plant tomatoes and fall in love. That’s it.

• About 95% of those arriving in small boats since 2018 claim asylum upon arrival, often fleeing war-torn regions like Afghanistan, Syria, Iran or Eritrea (Policy Exchange) (Migration Observatory) (researchbriefings.files.parliament.uk).
• In 2022, approximately 66% of arrivals via small boats were males aged 18–39 — many sent ahead as the most able family member to seek safety (Policy Exchange).
• Asylum seekers made up approximately 16% of all immigration to the UK in 2024

These statistics underscore that most journeys in this context are undertaken by individuals escaping extreme threat — the most able to survive and most likely to be persecuted sent ahead)

Psychological lens:
Research shows that forced displacement leads to trauma, identity loss, and complex PTSD. Seeking asylum is a survival behaviour, not a political manoeuvre.
 — Boss, 2007; UNHCR Mental Health Guidelines

Chair 2- The Worried Citizen

“I’m not a bad person. I just want to be okay.”

I’ve liked in this country for my whole life. My bills are growing. I work hard, but it doesn’t stretch far enough. I have friends who rely on the food bank. I take care of my mum in a system that seems to ignore the sacrifices she has made to the community and yet I feel invisible most of the time.

And now, when I look around, I see new faces in the housing queue, at the GP, in school places. And I don’t know who to blame, but it feels like what little we have is being stretched and that my family who has always lived here and paid their way are at the back of the queue.

I don’t hate anyone. But I do feel scared, frustrated and angry — And I’m tired of being told I’m a bigot just for asking:
“What about us?”

• In the UK, around 17% of people live in relative poverty before housing costs, rising to 21% after housing costs — meaning over 14 million people struggle to meet basic needs, even before the pressures of immigration debates (research briefings Parliament.uk)
• 6 million working-age adults (19%) were in relative poverty after housing costs; 4.5 million children (31%) lived in similar conditions in 2023/24. Many are in secure jobs yet still feel pushed to the edge (research briefings Parliament.uk)
• Access to healthcare has deteriorated sharply. Almost 3 million people on NHS waiting lists in August 2025 had not received any specialist care since GP referral — many waiting longer than the NHS’s 18‑week target
• Hospital treatment waiting lists peaked at 7.7 million in Sept 2023, dropping only slightly to 7.4 million by March 2025 — meaning around 1 in 8 people in England still awaits care House of Commons Library.
• Long-standing capital underinvestment has resulted in fewer hospital beds per person, slower diagnostic turnaround, and fewer care-home placements, especially for older adults

Psychological lens:
According to Terror Management Theory, people under stress cling to identity and safety. When resources feel scarce, the presence of “outsiders” can amplify fear — even without direct competition.
 — Greenberg et al., 1990

3. The Family Left Behind

“I kissed my son goodbye and sent him into danger, because I love him.”

We sold everything. Took loans. Skipped meals. Gave him our best clothes. I watched my son walk away with just a phone and a bag.

People ask, “Why don’t they come legally?” But when your house is on fire, you don’t wait for a visa. You run.

I pray every night that he is alive. I dream of his voice. I live half a life while waiting for him to build one.

• Smuggler fees to cross the Channel in a small boat can run from around £3,000 to £6,000 per person, depending on smugglers and timing — hundreds or thousands of pounds that families typically save for by selling belongings or borrowing.
• Between 2018 and 2024, approximately 174,672 people were detected crossing the Channel in small boats (Home Office data to July 2025)
• In 2024 alone, around 73 people died attempting the crossing — the highest yearly toll yet, surpassing the previous six years combined
• Women and children face particular vulnerabilities. While explicit UK-wide data on sexual violence en route is rare, testimonies from refugee camps such as Calais suggest widespread risk, with over 75% surveyed reporting experiencing some form of violence — including rape or assault — in transit or at destinations (Refugee Rights Europe, Calais Jungle, 2016)

Why families send only their strongest son

These numbers explain why parents usually send one adult male ahead:

• It’s so expensive, and there must be at least some chance of success.
• The risk of death or assault is real, especially for women and children.
• So families make a tragic, pragmatic choice: send someone who is physically able to survive — to serve as a bridge for the rest of the family.

Parents don’t want to send their child into danger. They feel compelled. The choice is driven by survival, not strategy — love, not opportunism.

Psychological lens:
This is what psychologists call protective sacrifice — parents acting against their own instincts to give a child the best chance of survival. It’s an act of radical love.
 — Betancourt & Khan, 2008

4. The Politician

“I’m not proud of the headlines. But I know how power works.”

I’ve seen the polls. I’ve read the focus groups. I know which words win elections — and which ones end careers.

I may believe in human rights, but if I push too far, I lose. And someone worse gets in.

So I compromise. I talk about “safe routes” and “illegal crossings.” I avoid the word “love.”
I call it realism. But sometimes it feels like cowardice.

Immigration as a voter issue

• In the 2024 General Election, 27% of British voters said immigration was a top‑three issue affecting their vote choice — rising to 50% among Conservative voters and 72% among Reform UK supporters, underscoring its power as political currency ft.comipsos.com
• For Reform UK voters, immigration topped even healthcare and the economy — making it a core campaign issue for the party ipsos.com.

Why anti-immigration stances are politically appealing

• With majorities of Conservative and Reform base voters prioritising immigration, politicians perceive hardline rhetoric as a way to mobilize turnout and reclaim trust from harder-right rivals such as Nigel Farage’s Reform UK
• Repeatedly, leaders like Starmer have shifted strategies — from previously defending migrant rights to tightening policies — in order to respond to voter anxieties about small boat arrivals and rising net migration (e.g. changing stance in 2025 White Paper)

🧠 Psychological lens:
Politicians often act under “bounded rationality,” where decisions are limited by pressure, emotion, and the need to maintain control. Moral decisions are regularly sacrificed to political survival.
 — Kahneman, 2011

5. The Storyteller

“If I scare you, you’ll click. And if you click, I get paid.”

I didn’t mean to become part of the machine. But outrage sells.

If I say, “Young man flees persecution,” you scroll past.
If I say, “Migrant gang floods quiet town,” you share it.

So I choose images carefully. I crop the mother out of the photo. I lead with the dinghy. I don’t lie. But I let fear fill in the blanks.

Traditional newsrooms under strain

• In the decade to 2019, over 300 local newspaper titles closed in the UK. Today, many operate with drastically reduced editorial teams and budgets, having lost over £1 billion in print advertising revenue to Big Tech platforms like Facebook and Google
• Reach plc — the company behind the Daily Mirror, Express, and local papers — cut nearly 700 jobs since 2020, slashing reporting teams by over 30% while pushing for digital scale to survive. Print circulation continues to decline by15‑20% each year

The click economy and sensational headlines

• The Reuters Institute’s 2024 data shows only 17% of UK adults pay for online news, so publishers rely heavily on clicks and ads for revenue
• Headlines with angry or threatening tones — like “migrant gang floods town” or “invasion” narratives — can generate 10× more engagement than empathetic or policy-based stories
• Immigration is a recurring framed theme — analysis found that since 2010, UK newspapers often link immigrants with themes of threat, fear, or crisis, amplifying dehumanisation even without new legislative changes

What this means for the Storyteller

• Newsrooms are in business survival mode: they face declining print sales, staff cuts, and shrinking budgets. Telling dramatic, simple stories garners views — and revenue — even when the nuance is lost.
• Many journalists are working under tight editorial targets for reach and ad impressions. A fear-based headline demands attention; an empathetic one often gets muted.
• Even conscientious reporters find their pieces edited or framed to maximise clicks. The storytelling pressure is structural — not necessarily malicious — but deeply influential.
• There is a case for the public gets what the public wants, but it feeds itself — what came first the chicken or the egg? The fear or the fear-mongering?

🧠 Psychological lens:
The framing of news changes whether readers see people as victims or threats. Media-induced dehumanisation shapes public opinion more than facts ever do.
 — Esses et al., 2013

🌍 What If We Sat Together?

What if all these people — the seeker, the citizen, the parent, the politician, the journalist — sat at the same table?

What if, instead of asking who’s right, we asked:
What matters most to you? What are you afraid of? What do you care about?

Not because all opinions are equal.
But because all people are.

Try Switching Seats for a While

Imagine war breaks out in Britain. You flee to foreign shores. Different in every way to you and the culture you know. You don’t speak the language yet. You wear a cross or celebrate Christmas. You love fish and chips, cups of tea and stand up when they play the national anthem — God save the King. What member of your family would make the perilous journey first?

How would you want to be treated?

Migration is not a problem to be solved. It is a reality to be lived with compassion.

We don’t need to agree on everything.
But we can start by listening.

We can make love — not fear — the centre of our politics.

🧠 Further Reading & Sources

• Boss, P. (2007). Ambiguous Loss: Learning to Live with Unresolved Grief
• Greenberg, J., Solomon, S., & Pyszczynski, T. (1990). Terror Management Theory
• Betancourt, T. S., & Khan, K. T. (2008). Mental Health of Children Affected by Armed Conflict
• Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, Fast and Slow
• Esses, V. M., Medianu, S., & Lawson, A. S. (2013). Dehumanization of Immigrants and Refugees

#Migration #Psychology #Refugees #HumanRights #Empathy #UKPolitics #SocialJustice #PerspectiveTaking #systemsthinking

I haven’t written about this before. Not because it didn’t affect me, or because I didn’t want to share it with you — but because so many people were going through such incredibly hard times that making my experience the focus felt… wrong.

But last year, we were in Valencia when the floods came.

I say “came” carefully — because we didn’t see them arrive. We heard them. On the windshield, on the roof throughout the nights and finally, at 7am, the shrill, terrifying sound of the civil alert system blared from our phones, waking the entire campsite. Our Spanish is minimal and our Catalan even worse, so we huddled over our phones, using Google Translate to decipher what emergency we had just been plunged into. A national alert: catastrophic rain had destroyed homes, livelihoods, and lives. The town we were heading to was devastated. The Moto GP we’d planned to see — cancelled. We were told to stay put and await further instructions.

This post isn’t about the devastation. It’s about people — and the strange, stubborn little magic they carry in them.

Once the sun came out, we walked down to the beach. It was unrecognisable — strewn with debris: oranges, driftwood, plastic bottles, smashed-up furniture, a few overturned cars… even dead animals. And, scattered among the mess, beehives — shaken open, exposed to the elements. Still, the bees clung to the wax, doing everything they could to hold their hive together.

And then, almost without noticing, we saw signs of something else. Piles. Wood in one. Bamboo in another. Plastic, sorted and stacked. People were already here, organising the chaos.

More and more arrived — some alone, others in couples or families, even people with dogs in tow. Nobody shouted. Nobody led. Everyone just started picking up what they could, sorting it into neat piles. We joined in. It was small work, humble work. Stack the plastic. Separate the wood. Make space for the trucks that were already working so hard.

And every time our eyes met — strangers, across language barriers — there was this quiet, knowing, gentle half-smile. A smile that said: I just had to do something.

We didn’t change the world that day. We barely scratched the surface of the mess. But we tried. Because we cared. Because, like the bees, we instinctively do what we can to hold together the things that matter most — our communities, our world, each other.

And that, perhaps, is what hope really looks like.

This time of year I become unbearable to some! You see, I Love Christmas. Not a little bit—a massive amount. I watch every Christmas movie where a big-shot lawyer returns to her hometown to fall in love with a local plaid-shirted carpenter. I oooh and arr at every twinkling light, sing every cheesy song, wear jumpers with tinsel or snowmen on, and forget everything scientific in my soul to embrace the holiday.

And why — not because I am religious, but because Christmas to that lot in the photo IS a religion! and that lot are my family.

In my work, we regularly discuss the inequality in family wealth and how financial legacy is by far the greatest predictor of an individual's wealth.

My family, although extremely hardworking, smart (and obviously good looking) do not have that manner of wealth. Instead, we have been given the legacy of a different kind of wealth. To me it is the wealth that truly matters, the enduring richness of strong family bonds and love passed across generations. Just as financial inheritance shapes opportunities, the care and traditions shared within families leave an indelible mark, creating a lineage of love that strengthens each generation.

Never is that more obvious in our family at Christmas. Research shows how wealth flows across generations, this is true of other things. Intangible gifts such as love, sarcasm and belonging show themselves in tiny gestures and traditions that echo across decades.

Like when Father Christmas hides the presents tonight all across the house and the children (ranging this year from 79–to 31) have to find them in strange places (ovens, washing machines, lampshades and ALWAYS under sofa cushions. On Christmas eve when the exact same meal is served as last year and the year before… The dessert plates will be handed around the table again and again and everyone laughs until the dessert, last popular in the 1980s is put on the table. Tree presents opened on Christmas Eve allow the children (again all over 30) to dispel just enough magic so that we can all sleep through the excitement.

And just as grandparents’ wealth shapes future opportunities so family traditions remind us that the true channels of wealth transmission — whether through shared lasagne, treasured memories of a sister saying the ‘C word’ at the dinner table 15 years ago, and magic presents, like the morning Alex and Max opened their first ever PlayStation from Vicki and Fenn that they could not have dreamed of even asking for.

The gifts given when you have this type of generational wealth aren't playstations, cameras, or digital alarm clocks (with cassette functions) they are bonds of love, security, and belonging forged over time.

The disparities in material wealth are also reflected in this type of legacy. Broken bonds, lack of care and circumstance can cast shadows over some families. The playing field is just as unlevel in familial wealth as it is in financial.

I know I am privileged to have had the parents, grandparents, siblings and children that I have. To have only known love and magic at Christmas is a wealth that many will never be able to imagine.

This year we are not together as a family. These rituals and ceremonies will be performed in three different countries — but they will connect us — forever. I will not be able to leave my children much money when I die — but this inheritance I hope they cherish and foster. It does not come without work or cost — but it is priceless.

I wish you all a merry Christmas. Let's redistribute this wealth! As the old song goes, love is something if you give it away, you end up having more.

May your days be merry and bright and may all your Christmases be ones where love grows stronger in each generation.

We were ready for a bit of sea, sun, and sand. Nearing the border of Spain we stopped in the port town of Barcarés not far from the beautiful city of Perpignan.

A lovely friendly campervan park, right on the harbour made it easy to walk around the town. At the end of October, it was quiet but the number of bars, restaurants, and holiday rentals made it clear how busy and fun this town could be in the Summer.

Almost as soon as you drive in you see colour. Buildings with huge paintings and geometrical patterns. Sculptures and incredible and thoughtful planting along the roadside gives colour to the whole town.

The other thing that you notice as soon as you are in the harbour is the enormous shipping container art installations. Part of the town's Alleé des Arts these giant metal canvasses bring something incredible and different to the seafront.

Amazingly, they are only a small part of the art exhibition that runs along the shore. Open to all people and all weathers they are looking a little bit worse for wear in some places but nevertheless, beautiful. Where else but the south of France would you see such a festival of art as you walk to the shops or take the dogs out for a pee!

Two of my favourite artists responsible are:

Andreas von Chrzanowski (AKA Case Maclaim) This German artist is known for his depiction of the power of movement, especially hands. His work was really powerful and I found myself moved by it. The two sides of the container reflected the two dimensions. I saw this as Power and Peace. It is so perfectly drawn it could almost be a photograph, and then you remember how enormous it is and that it is on the side of several shipping containers, with their rough sides and correlation. Incredible!

Veks Van Hillik who I’m pretty sure created the giant fish man that greats you as you come into the town. I'm sure because I checked out his Instagram and it is one of the fishiest things (and most awesome) I have ever seen. This giant wide creation is incredible!

While strolling and taking some of these photographs I got into a conversation with a local woman. She had been born in the area and was walking her lovely little dog (dog people always have a conversation starter) She was unimpressed with the incredible artwork — saying ‘C’est pas mon truc’ — or ‘not my cup of tea’ but I think there was a bit of pride behind that throw away answer. I like to think so anyway!

One of the true ‘Pearls’ of our trip has not been something we have discovered but rather something that we have been made to appreciate even more: our Dogs. This is the first time we have travelled with them, and they have been amazing. You can see from their postcards that they have very different experiences (we think) of this adventure.

Both dogs came from Grande Daze Animal Companion Centre and so were not puppies. Julie our Chow Chow came to us as a mature female (she is now 12). She is a delight, and loves everyone and everything (especially food) In recent months she has been showing her age but because of the extra walking and movement camper life necessitates she has just got younger!

Rupert is a bouncy 4-year-old Whippet/Italian Greyhound mix. He did not have the best start in life. Mix his early years with his breed and you get a skinny, trembling scaredy-cat (scaredy-dog?) but thanks to Grande Daze and their rehabilitation and lots of love he is beautiful.

We worried whether this trip would be a step too far. Too much change. Too many new people. Too much noise. But Rupert has grown even more. He bounces along on walks and although he starts every trip to a cafe under the table shaking, by the end he is usually smelling the waitress or begging for a bit of tapas!

So yes, the dogs are ‘pearls’ in themselves, but this entry is about the people who entrusted these dogs to us. Peter and Anita, at Grande Daze. I start this, very aware that they haven’t had a holiday in ‘goodness knows’ and that every day—Christmas, Easter, birthdays—they care for animals.

There are many rescue centers in the UK and France that do amazing work (I hope anyone reading this gives their favourite a shout out), but I cannot compare what this couple and all of their volunteers do in Rural Mayenne, France.

When I first visited their Centre I was still heartbroken over the loss of my Harry — 6 years before in the UK. To make it worse I had had a terrible experience with another local refuge and was quite nervous about getting it right (for our family and the dog)

Anita knew this and thought about who she had that could help heal a dog-broken heart. Unlike many places, they did not give me a tour and show me lots of dogs but instead, she walked with me, got to know me, and then brought out the dog that she thought was mine. Harley (who we called Farley, Harley Farley, Harley Farley Charlie, Noonah and love-bundle). He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen in my life and I loved him. Sadly after a short time, he developed Cancer and Anita then introduced me to Julie and later Rupert.

I have used lots of their services, their Kennels, their grooming (Julie is a ball of fluff and sheds a whole body every year) and Rupert goes to Agility classes when we are not off galavanting!

What stands-out — makes them a ‘Pearl’ is them — Peter and Anita and all those who work with them.

Knowledgable and defiantly preferring animals to humans in some cases (some might say with good reason) they work tirelessly on behalf of the animals they look after. It's not a beauty pageant but a blind dating service with dogs welfare at the heart of it and no one does it better than they do.

So this is a big thank you to them for bringing such joyful and wonderful travelling companions into our lives and for letting so many of us have holidays (with dogs or without while they are in the boarding kennels) while you two work on — for the animals — everyday.

If you were dogs, you would deserve a big treat. But all I have to give are our undying thanks.

Lara Paul Julie and Rupert xxx

As our travels continued we spent 4 beautiful days at the Plage D’espinet Auvergne Rhône-Alps. An area full of Lakes, walks, and inland beaches. Normally full of tourist activities we had the whole place to ourselves save from a few local people fishing.

Immediately, as two big Ozark fans, Paul and I could see the similarities. Beautiful houses facing onto the lake. Boats and bars on the water. There was a fantastic glamping site just putting their teepees to bed for the winter and the floating cabins were all empty. But a true pearl does not lose its luster in the winter — and this place came alive for us in a different way.

We loved walking around the lake, the dogs running ahead, and loving life. We were surprised to find the Himalayan bridge. With its large span across the water, it makes getting to the local town alot easier — and it's a lot of fun as it sways beneath your feet. We waved at the fishing boat that came below us and they shouted ‘Bonjour’ back. The Dogs were less keen but as I tucked into three days of work in the camper — it saved Paul some very long walks (making them just quite long walks!!)

Luckily, in the isolation, there was a wifi signal so I spent three days working. Paul went off on adventures alone and came back with stories of his finds and discoveries every day. He also brought back some pretty amazing bread! It turns out working with a view of a lake serves me well!

On Wednesday Paul took a very long walk to find the local dam. He came back with a wonderful story. On looking down the bridge was covered in what looked like starfish. He could not work out what they were — maybe some kind of stabilizers for the huge walls? Some sort of measurement for the water? NO, they were lights.

Using real starfish to create molds for the design 300 of these lights cover the dam. Some are covered in photoluminescent enamel to absorb sunlight and reflect it at night. Others use platinum enamel to reflect daytime sunshine.

The constellations were created to show the night sky on the 8th of May 1945 and are named the ‘sky of liberation’. The dam opened, of course, by President Charles de Gaule (In July 1945) shows the constellations not only from the sky on the night of the liberation of Europe as they would have been above the dam but also as it can be seen from different places across the world. Construction was carried out during the Occupation and the celebration of its creation is even more fitting when you discover that the head of the local resistance was also the chief engineer unbeknownst to those overseeing the creation of the dam.

What an incredible, secret joy to behold. Coming at night to witness the starfish lit up as the animals of the constellations! What imagination and creativity could come up with something so bizar and so like the magic of a pearl! I mean — starfish….oysters.

We cannot recommend this place highly enough — our French Ozarks. We are pretty sure that we can guarantee fewer drug dealers than the Netflix series although you gotta wonder about that dam!

I didn’t know much about pearls before writing this blog but I wondered how to introduce Oradour-Sur-Glane as a pearl when it is so heartbreakingly sad. Pearls are formed when something goes wrong, an irritant (usually a piece of sand or grit) gets into the shell, and the oyster reacts to it — creating something beautiful out of something harmful. And there it is. This is why Oradour-Sur-Glane is a pearl. Not because it comes from a place of beauty or kindness or joy. But because the reaction to something terrible was something beautiful and meaningful.

Oradour-Sur-Glane is in the Haute-Vienne department, Nouvelle-Aquitaine, west-central France. Before the Second World War, this rural village was home to cafes, dressmakers, hairdressers, bicycle repair shops, and bakers… It was unremarkable.

On the 10th June 1944, just days after the Allied troops landed on the beaches of Normandy a regiment of the 2nd SS Panzer Division, ordered to put down local resistance surrounded the village, calling all residents to the village square, regardless of their age, health, or position.

Separating the men from the women and children they killed 643 people that day. The men were gathered together, taken to barns around the village, and shot.

The women and children were rounded up into the church, locked in and the church was set on fire, with grenades thrown into the church. Some tried to escape through the windows, falling from a great height only to be faced with machine gun fire.

A whole village was wiped out, including people who were working nearby or visiting the area. Only six people survived to bear witness to the evil that took place that day. Following the massacre, the whole village was set on fire.

By order of President Charles de Gaulle, the village stands today, untouched, to bear witness to the tragedy. It is minimally maintained and there is a visitor centre to tell the story including photographs of all those who died (where photographs exist). As you walk into the village a recorded voice reads out continuously the names and ages of all 643 people who died that day.

It is one of the strangest memorials I have been to. Simple as an idea, it is hauntingly powerful. Everyone I saw walked in silence. The pace was slow and although I took a few pictures I soon found that it felt disrespectful. If people did speak to each other it was in hushed tones of respect and more than a few of us were moved to tears.

The village tells its own story and means different things to different people — but always one of sadness, regret, and reverence.

For me, it is a reminder of what humans are capable of. Cruelty yes, but also remembrance, thoughtfulness, bravery, love. It is not the history that is a pearl but the way that people have come together, over generations to learn and feel and promise more.

In researching the details of this story I am aware that there is more than one version of events. This is not surprising as only six eyewitnesses from the village survived. Europe was still at war and even the peace that followed would serve to make an accurate telling of this story difficult. Although I have read several versions (French and English) I have used two sources as my north star — The Oradour-Sur-Glane Visitor Centre https://www.oradour.org/ and the Holocaust Encyclopedia https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/

In writing this I have also come across two stories I wanted to relate to you. I think they are pearls in themselves…

The first is Robert Hébras — the last survivor of the massacre died last year. Having been shot several times he crawled away finally getting help at a nearby village. He lost his Mother and two of his sisters that day and spent the rest of the war in the resistance.

Through all of these experiences, Robert spent much of his life working for Franco-German reconciliation and peace. He wrote about his experiences and took groups around the village that had once been his home serving as living testimony of that day.

He lectured in Germany and spoke to German schoolchildren. He has been awarded many honours in France but also the Austrian Holocaust Remembrance Prize (2008) and the Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany (2012). He was never afraid to speak out — in favour of the European Ideal and for peace between nations.

The second is a story that came out of the research rabbit hole that I went down. I wanted to know more about Das Reich the 2nd SS Panzer Division. What was their history, and why Oradour? what had brought people to that place where they could do this to other people?

Again, there is more than one story. Because at the time the Vichy Government wanted to avoid mass panic and were still very much under the control of the Nazi regime original stories were very different from the testimony. Over time various ideas have been put forward. The same group committed a massacre in Tulle the day before in the name of keeping down the resistance. I’m not here to tell that story but was interested in one story that was almost a post-script to the debate on ‘why’.

Das Reich were trying to get to Normandy to provide support to those fighting the allied forces who had just landed. The fastest way to do this was by train as many of their vehicles were on tracks that don't appreciate roads and long journeys. They were due to catch trains however the Special Operations Executive foresaw their plans and arranged for supplies to be sent to ensure the trains could not be used (and therefore hold up the support to the German front)

The railway carriages were sabotaged by the addition of an abrasive powder being poured into the axle oil of the trains. This was not the remarkable part… The powder was put into the axles by a group of children and young people. The 14–16-year-olds led by a 16-year-old girl named Tetty and her boyfriend. The impact of this action helped hold up Das Reich and gave the resistance time to put plans in place to hold them up further. I can find very little about this story so if anyone out there has any information — please let me know more!

J’aime mon nouveau pays, la France — Après presque 7 ans, je sais que mon français devrait être aussi fort que mon amour pour ce pays. Malheureusement, ce n’est pas le cas. C’est pourquoi je vais essayer d’écrire mon blog dans les deux langues. Je doute qu’il soit aussi riche, mais il sera écrit avec amour et espoir.
Je commence à voyager en camping-car depuis ma belle maison en Normandie à la recherche de choses belles, intéressantes et curieuses. Beaucoup seront en France, certains seront ailleurs.
J’ai eu une vie intéressante et j’ai passé une grande partie de celle-ci à m’inspirer des choses merveilleuses que les gens font lorsqu’ils s’aiment et prennent soin les uns des autres. En travaillant dans des associations caritatives et en politique, j’ai vu les meilleurs et les pires des gens — c’est donc un voyage de découverte pour trouver les « perles » là-bas — ces personnes et ces projets, ces scènes et ces situations qui nous rendent tous fiers, réfléchis et curieux. — ravi ou joyeux. et si vous pouvez m’aider en corrigeant mon français (avec l’aide de Google Translate dans de nombreux endroits), faites-le — je suis là pour apprendre !

Wildly Wandering and the Wonderful Wanda…

One of the real difficulties of going off on a gap year when you are in your 50s is all the ‘stuff’ you have managed to acquire over half a century. Some of these are possessions, but most of it is about responsibilities.

As it turns out I had some pretty big responsibilities even when I was of a more acceptable age for traveling. Whilst most of my friends went off to find themselves, I had found myself…pregnant. And so while many of my contemporaries were enjoying backpacking or University I was bringing up my family.

But doing things ‘my way’ I managed to do the Uni bit while my children where at school, found a beautiful husband after the children, and bought my first house just before my 40th birthday. So by 50, I had moved to France just as my friends were busy with their children's GCSE results (and mine were backpacking in Canada and heading for their 30s).

I love my life in France. In rural Normandy, we have a slice of heaven. We have gathered around us alpacas, ducks, chickens, dogs and cats. I have a job I love, a house I love and the best friends in the world. My husband is still beautiful and the best of my friends. so why the wander lust (or wonderlust)?

Just before we moved to France I had an idea. I wanted to travel around the world and find ‘pearls’. Little bits of magic that lifted me, made me curious, made me think or learn or just smile. But life had a way of speeding up plans to live in France (BREXIT) and so we found our bliss in Normandy.

But the idea would not die. So I decided to make it happen, a little bit at a time. This is our first trip out. Six weeks, two dogs, one campervan, and ZERO plan. Lets find joyful things, curiosities, and the ‘pearls’ that make me glad, thoughtful or just plain joyful.

But how to do this when you have a lifetime of accumulated delights (our fur and feather children and our home)

You find the first in your string of ‘pearls’ — her name is Wanda.

I found Wanda in a Facebook group for petsitters in France. I put our call out to the universe and the universe obviously loves me! Because it sent me Wanda. Before we left Wanda stayed with us for a week. Its the first time we had entrusted our precious pets and home to anyone and we were quite worried.

Right from the first contact, we knew we were in good hands. Wanda is one of the strongest and most gentle people I have ever met. We managed to have a few health issues before going (a drawback of delayed youth) and she managed everything with wisdom and a smile. I was almost tempted to stay just to know her better.

So thank you Wanda for helping us have it all. If you are in any way interested in the story of our wanderings and the pearls we find I hope you enjoy following us. I will no doubt do blogging as I do everything else — with excitement, with humour, and with no routine whatsoever… Hope you can join us.