This time last Wednesday, ordinary people in Ukraine were doing exactly what ordinary people do every day. These are people with jobs, with families and mortgages.

Then they were told that Russia would invade. The warnings from the West were confusing them, and many simply could not believe it.

But then it happened. Since then, everything has been shaken up.

I work in England, but back home, all of my family have been scattered by Putin’s bombs. My loved ones are working out where to go, and what to take.

My niece, who is married to an American studying at Kharkiv University and has a nine-month-old baby, was moved to Kyiv as the troops were building up to the invasion. University authorities moved her husband’s course there.

Three days after, the bombing started in Kyiv. They left after the first night and went to stay with my sister, and then drove nine hours to Moldova, because it was less busy than other borders.

From there, they went to Romania, and are now going to America. They’ve left their car there, not knowing if they’ll ever come back for it.

But they are lucky—some were charging people thousands of dollars for a lift to the border, and even less fortunate people have been forced to walk.

My nephew’s wife, who has two babies, went to the Polish border after the third day of bombing because she has friends there. They are also lucky—my nephew was working in Africa, and would have been forced to stay and fight if he wasn’t abroad.

My brother-in-law is an airline pilot and works in an aviation centre that has been targeted by the Russian military. He couldn’t land there and was forced to land in Poland. But he has crossed the border to be with my sister and his family, where they will fight and protect their home.

Even now, I can’t get my head around much of this.

I find it shocking that Russia is surrounding Mariupol and starving its people. It’s clear that people are dying slowly and painfully from untreated injuries, hunger, and perpetual bombing.

Ukrainians in other cities are watching this, and having to decide whether to leave before the Russians reach them, or face the same fate.

While they think about this, the basics of life are running out. Old people can’t access their prescriptions, and young families can’t find nappies. You can’t get water out of your tap or flush your own toilet.

When night comes, you can’t see anything. You can’t charge your phone, and the network is down anyway.

And when Russia takes Odesa, there will be zero access from the sea to drop off aid. They cannot land things from the sky, either. All they will be able to get will be by road from mainland Europe.

I find it all so difficult to express. But I urge all of my brothers and sisters in this union, and all of those who oppose this war, to donate what you can.

Please understand that it is all so close to home, whether you know it or not. I don’t blame you for not believing me, but it really can happen to anybody.

These people don’t want to be refugees. They don’t want to lose their jobs. They have families, homes and mortgages, and now have to go to countries where they have nothing except their paperwork.

Sit yourself down, put yourself in that position—and please consider donating.