WWII was, without exaggeration, the biggest event in all of human history, and it is still within living memory.

This is the forked tongue of grief again. It whispers in one ear: return to what you once loved best, and in the other ear it whispers, move on.

Andrew had a gift for deepening the incision he began.

It is certainly impossible to imagine forgiving the enemy while their animus remains undefeated.

My paternal grandmother drove ambulances during the regional Blitz, in Birmingham.

In a few breaths' time I will speak some sad words to you. But you must hear them the same way we have agreed to see scars now. Sad words are just another beauty.

If I can't write it would be as if I died.