As the waves crash against the harbour walls of West Hoe Pier, a Grade II-listed structure beneath Plymouth’s Grand Parade, Miron Muslic’s mind turns to the sights and sounds of spring 1992 in Bihac, Bosnia. He was a typical nine-year-old boy, happiest having a kickabout or watching He-Man, still on a high from getting a BMX for his birthday months earlier. “We became refugees overnight,” he says. “We faced a genocide in the heart of Europe. You fear for your life, you’re scared. It was just devastating. We had to grab everything we could put in a bag and move 700km [435 miles]. I don’t think I was really aware of what was going on. How could I be?”
Muslic, his younger sister, Marinela, and their parents, Camil and Mersada, fled to Austria via Hungary, eventually arriving in the scenic Pertisau am Achensee after a few days on the road via various modes of transport. “And from there, Austria became our second home,” he says.
