Born and raised in England by émigré parents, I wanted to be like other kids at school – but I had this weird name, spoke Serbo-Croat at home and went to Yugoslavia for my summer holidays.

In the eighties, I worked in Yugoslavia. Despite speaking the language, it still felt like I was a complete foreigner. Tito had just died and the agony of the Land of South Slavs was beginning.

Later, when I started writing, I found myself drawn back to Yugoslavia – once a country full of diverse cultures, where East met West across the fault-line of Europe.

Then it blasted itself apart.