17/09/2015 12:40 BST | Updated 17/09/2016 06:12 BST

Brits and Refugees Abroad

I am currently in a hotel in Bitez, a small town just outside of Bodrum in Turkey.

I am staying at a lovely hotel called the Orion, it's very small and it has a mix of Brit holiday makers and Syrian and Iraqi escape makers - the atmosphere is familial with an undertone of plotting. It very much reminds me of Rick's cafe in Casablanca - a halfway point where you sit and plot your next move. I know my next move, a few days lying in the sun, with a bit of eating, reading, drinking and swimming in between.

The coach will come and get the holiday makers and we will return to the life we came on holiday to get away from.

The rest are trying to escape to the life we're trying to escape from.

We seek to protect and preserve our land and way of life as though ours is of the most high. We have benefits and NHS and social housing but what is our quality of life like? A struggle: seeking and waiting for the weekend and holidays to tick our souls over. We keep ourselves to ourselves, suspicious of those that so much as smile at us. We fight against so little not appreciating that the rest of the world is fighting for so much more.

And the most humbling to the point of shameful is that every single 'escape maker' I met did it with a smile on their face. They offered drinks, food, kisses to the cheeks, handshakes and kindness; none of them judged me and I, being me, never judged them.

They never complained - to the point it brought me to tears. When I asked my new friend why he seemed so happy even with so much stress he replied "if you know it is your last days, you spend them with laughter".

Then one day, it occurs that you haven't seen them today and neither tomorrow and you realise that they must have left for pastures horrific, hoping to get to the new - safety!

The idea that my beautiful 11 year old Hakim (and prospective son-in-law if Eva had her way) and all the other friends I made could now be dead makes a word like heartbreaking seem pointless.

When I was with them they were not migrants or refugees, we were all merely people who became friends.