Three months ago (give or take a few days) I arrived in Calais for a week with no idea what to expect. I could not have predicted the effect it was going to have on my life, and that three months on I would still be here with no plans to leave anytime soon.
We rolled into our evening distribution point in Calais with the sun blazing over the field. As the Daily Mail so lovingly complimented us last week (forgive me if I don’t link to the article), the “party atmosphere” was in full swing. Small fires burning peacefully, a generator blasting music and a perfectly synchronised group of Afghan men dancing in a circle – a really, really beautiful moment. A queue formed slowly as we began serving our usual rice, curry and salad, stretching back to over 100 people with more waiting around the field. The eye of the storm. Continue reading
Bear with me as I try to put the past few days into words. It feels as though months have passed since Monday afternoon. Continue reading