Frosty Reception

It’s cold, but you know that. It’s winter. It’s windy. It’s wet. It’s fairly miserable. But again, you know that, it’s winter. It’s cold so donate to us so that we can keep people dry but not necessarily warm or even dry really ‘cause the police take their tents and sleeping bags and everyone queues…

Twenty-four

An unaccompanied minor…no wait, people are bored of hearing that terminology…a teenage boy…yes, a genuine, thirteen year-old teenage boy, barely a teenager really, but wise beyond his years…a teenage boy draws lines in the sand with a broken nail, mapping out his journey. Detained here. Sent back home in a cage from here. A cage….

Conversations from Calais #5

The sun has been back out this week, and with it a false sense of security and warmth. At lunchtime I play cricket in the sunshine with a couple of Afghan boys (and despite having not played cricket since school, and being pretty crap at it even then, I manage not to embarrass myself too…