I listen to the radio today, the news is very hard to hear. What I hear about about Palestine and Israel, Syria and Iraq takes me back to my war, my work with La Résistance française in my home in Normandy.

We started early in the war, Patrice organised us but Sophie was considered too young. I knew she had the sense to join La Résistance française and insisted she join, after all, it was she who made me realise how hard it must have been for our father when his brothers didn’t return from the first world war. Sophie made me proud. She took messages to our contact in Veules les Roses and when the war really came to our area while she was there she watched as much as she could from Aunty Régine’s house and reported back to us.

It was Sophie who insisted we hide Angus, the Scottish soldier. I could not look at his wounds while she bathed them. Sophie is much stronger than I, it was good for the movement that I made sure she joined, she would have been a good soldier.

I look at the news today with a different eye to most people as I’ve lived through war. We helped refugees, made certain they had food and a place to rest before they moved on to find some other place. Again, it was Sophie who pushed our village into helping these people. Grandma made the biggest pot of soup for them. Someone should help the current refugees, I am too old to do more than write these few words. I am much older than Grandma was when she made that soup for our refugees.