We played with grandmother, my sister and I. Sometimes, when the sound of a low-flying airplane was heard high above our roof, grandmother would turn her face up and shout: “ The Russians are coming! ” As a child I never quite understood why she would think that an airplane flying over our quiet suburb on a Saturday morning would actually be a Russian one or why that would be dangerous, but the playing stopped for a moment and I realised that her childhood was much different from ours.

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