We founded an orthodox synagogue at the back of the Folies-Bergère. My Aunt Fifi would giggle as we passed display cases of half-naked entertainers, whispering to me about what went on in there. On the day she was born – August 1 1914 – my grandfather went off to the Front, serving for the full four years, never omitting to wrap a Jewish talit around his French uniform at morning prayers. A wooden board in the rue Cadet synagogue lists more than 20 members of our family who gave their lives for France in that war and others – who “fell on the field of honour”, in the official phrase.