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Paris squats

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Paris

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Personal Account

This was my first ‘convoy’ to Calais. Before I set off, I knew that it wouldn’t be the last, but not even foresight could prepare me for the magnitude of what I would see, and the impact it would have on my daily life once I’d returned.

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Personal Account

Less than an hour after we’d left home, we ran out of fuel on the latest convoy trip to Calais. My fault completely. Three of us sat there in the van, playing the blame game (playfully). But it was my fuck up and I knew it. So what? No harm done. It was properly pissing down too. No chance we’re walking 4 miles to fill up…

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Personal Account

A work commitment meant a late arrival to ‘The Jungle’. A weary ferry ride with a glass of red wine and six coach loads of young teenagers. Unaware of anything but their friends and their selfies. Unaware of how lucky they were.

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