SOUNDS OF THE HEART

I'm busy with something or other and suddenly a few words or phrases in Russian float up from the depths of childhood when my father, Sacha, was talking with his relatives. I never learned Russian properly but the long-forgotten sound of it can still ring bells in my heart. The language I heard then rippled with tenderness, nostalgia, enthusiasm, passion. I recognise some of the words coming from the mouth of Putin but they are laced with the poison of hate.

Here is my beloved father (Sachinka) to clear the air.