As a proud fourth generation Jew in tolerant Britain it never crossed my mind that all we have ever known would be pulled from underneath our feet.

And yet, the rug is increasingly slipping at pace.

Ambulances and synagogues firebombed. A Jewish man punched and attacked in broad daylight. Social media aflame with antisemitic vile.

And now yesterday - two Jewish men viciously stabbed as they went about their business in Golders Green, north London, one walking along the street, while the other, an elderly man in his 70s, simply waiting for a bus.

Terrorism has come once again to our doorstep - and as a Jewish mother I've never felt more terrified for my children's future.

Over the course of just a mere five weeks, the capital's Jewish community has repeatedly witnessed extremists attempting to dismantle their lives in Britain and drill away at their sense of security.

Only a week ago, Green Party leader Zack Polanski questioned that almost overwhelming feeling among the community as a 'perception of unsafety'.

But many will tell you there is no 'perception' - just the reality of living in Britain under what has become antisemitism's Damocles sword.

Shocking figures suggest Jews are now eight times more likely to be victims of religious hate crime than any other group.

But I remember a time when Britain was a very different place for Jewish people, where I felt safe and largely grew up without the blight of antisemitism darkening my younger years.

We had security in synagogues and schools, but not to the level we witness today - and certainly never the fear our situation would deteriorate to this extent.

How different my children's lives are compared to my own childhood.

In 2026, we are installing even more CCTV and even higher metal fences, while additional security guards have been deployed outside schools, synagogues and Jewish venues, often flanked by community police officers.

Youngsters are once again going through their terrorism drills. And at least one school has announced the suspension of detentions - with children urged to leave the gates swiftly once the home time bell rings.

But these reassurance measures do little to assuage fears police can't be everywhere at all times.

Scores of volunteers, including my husband, have taken it upon themselves to keep the community safe, participating in through-the-night patrols around Jewish areas in a bid to thwart what could be the next threat to our safety.

A threat we feel simply for being Jewish.

Mulling over what this all means for my community, I think again of my children and whether I will still be in the UK for my twilight years.

These are the disquieting thoughts my great-grandparents must have had when they escaped the pogroms of Eastern Europe more than 130 years ago.

And the same worries my husband's family debated before both his grandparents were forced to flee their homes in Poland and Germany during the Holocaust.

Whispers among my friends have now turned into full-blown conversations over when, not if, we might consider leaving Britain.

But more concerningly, where exactly will we go?

To that end, I'm now in the process of looking into my husband and children reclaiming German citizenship - the one so ruthlessly stripped from his grandmother under the Nazi regime 90 years ago - in the unthinkable event they too may one day have to leave in a hurry and need somewhere else to go.

Not just yet, I tell myself, but it's hard to dispel the thought Britain is hurtling towards a dangerous destination.

While Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer described Wednesday's attack 'utterly appalling', Tory leader Kemi Badenoch called out this 'epidemic of violence'.

But for many within the Jewish community the feeling goes far deeper with the threat to the British-Jewish community now possibly existential.

My ancestors came here because Britain offered a place of genuine safety in the face of persecution and hate.

Today that same hate is brewing right here on the streets of the UK, with repeated calls to 'globalise the intifada' and chants of 'death, death to the IDF'.

We see hate in classrooms, where children are subjected to being called 'Jewish scum' and taunted with Nazi salutes and swastikas.

And we see that same hate rhetoric heard in healthcare settings, universities and workplaces across the country, as well as on just about every social media platform.

What may have started with words, we've now seen with our own eyes turn into violent actions.

Just seven months after the horrific antisemitic terrorist attack in Manchester, my metaphorical suitcases were beginning to be packed.

But after yesterday and for the sake of my children, it feels as if those bags have now made their way downstairs and are waiting by the door.