When the refugees staying at my home met my lovely Russian neighbours
I WAS nervous as I got out of the car the other day with my Ukrainian refugees Zoryana and Ustym because, a few yards away in my quiet, little street, was one of my favourite neighbours, Victor.
He’s the man I can always call on for help with a DIY job and who’s a whizz with computers. My anxiety was because he and his wife, Masha, are Russian. Our encounter was inevitable. There was only one way to deal with this potentially catastrophic meeting. I called ‘Hi’ to Victor. It seemed best to make a proper introduction.
I have no idea what they said to each other. They spoke Russian. There were handshakes — and smiles. In English, he told Zoryana that he was always there to help. I felt such relief — and hope that humanity will triumph in the end.