My father chased a dream around the world. He wanted to breed and train racehorses. In England, that was a class-based occupation, like much of their society in the 1960's.
So, in 1970, he went to Western Australia, with his wife and two young sons.
Fifteen years later, my younger brother decided to go back to England. He didn’t bother becoming an Australian citizen before he left. It seemed like a waste of $75 and time for a teenager who regarded himself as Australian. Family connections interested him, along with many craggy mountains. Having fallen in love with climbing as a sport, Perth and environs was boringly flat.
He stayed too long, lost his Australian residency, and settled down to raise an English family.
My parents soon faced the common dilemma of grandchildren on two continents. They also had older friends and family back in England and so decided to return, at least for a few years.
This gave me the experience of having young children who were trying to maintain a relationship with remote grandparents.
My daughter was old enough to remember them and to enjoy chatting on the phone. It was still a scheduling hassle at times with the 8 hour time…
