The mother, Olena, told me, ‘They all had machine guns, and we weren’t allowed to go anywhere.’ A few days ago, the Russians finally agreed a ‘green corridor’, an evacuation route, but then they shot civilians as they tried to leave. And then there was the family, including granny in a wheelchair, whose village to the north-east of Kyiv had been occupied by the Russians. Her mother refuses to leave her dad, but the young woman’s priority is getting the baby out. A young woman in a purple woolly hat, jiggling a plump, smiling six-month-old baby, told me she had left not only her husband but also her mother in Chernihiv. We met a grandmother, mother and daughter who left northern Kyiv because the house next door to theirs took a direct hit this morning. Men aren’t allowed to leave the country, and most would rather stay and fight (from what I can tell), so those leaving are nearly all women. The shelling remains on the outskirts, but every day the Russians get a bit closer.Īt the railway station we saw little knots of women wheeling small cheap suitcases, accompanied by children who didn’t know whether to be fearful or excited, carrying multicoloured backpacks hung with stuffed toys.

Central Kyiv is not that dangerous for now. It’s hard to plan, because things change by the hour. My team and I are staying at the InterCon in Kyiv, reporting on the war day by day. These are expanded versions of letters that I wrote home. I reported for Channel 4 News from Ukraine during the first weeks of the invasion.

In Extremis by Lindsey Hilsum