I stand with

 I haven’t written much.

When I was at school I smashed a thermometer. Not on purpose. It was just a consequence of my extreme clumsiness. We all watched, fascinated as I pushed those little silver balls of liquid together and apart, not really being able to understand what they were or, with hindsight, how dangerous it was, despite the teacher nearly tripping, as she ran over, shouting. During this episode, one boy took the opportunity of the resulting chaos to lean across the solid wooden bench and place his mouth over the gas tap, which he had turned on first, sucking in enough hissing gas to make himself vomit. He had just chugged beaker of Ribena, so the resulting mess was truly terrifying and it was all my fault.

This is how I feel about Ukraine. I can’t quite work out what is going on. How can something so awful be happening?  We watch and all know it’s going to get worse. Do I nail my colours to the mast; have I got blue and yellow clothes? Do I stand with Ukraine? Who do I donate to? Is it time to offer my spare room to traumatised women and children? Do I urge our government to do more? Or do I caution them to step back and avoid poking the Russian bear (who seems to have completely lost his mind)?

I’ve often wondered what every day people thought about in the lead up to the Second World War but it’s clear that history chunks time into before and after but real time refuses to play that game. 

If normal people were like me then they were hoping it would all go away. Their hearts were breaking. They were scared and hoping for distraction.

I hadn’t written much at all because humour didn’t seem appropriate and I have no solutions to suggest. I grew up in an era where leaflets were dropped through the door warning us of Russians and their nuclear bombs. My dad knew that in the event of an attack he would be bricked into to telephone exchange communication bunker - he had been chosen - but shush don’t tell anyone - ‘I’ve signed the official secrets act.’ We had cartoons by the man who wrote the snowman about an old couple slowly dying in a nuclear attack.

We can talk about resilience all we like but when you are scared all you want to do is pretend nothing is happening. If you are an ordinary person, like me, then I can thoroughly recommend watching the Pottery Throwdown programme or Stanley Tucci in Italy.

I’m sorry that I’m not more of a role model but I don’t really want to fight anyone on the beaches, or anywhere else for that matter.