Living Abroad
Is Twelve Years Long Enough To Call Somewhere Home
Or is ‘home’ always home?
Island
The above photo isn’t my homeland, nor is it where I live— I’m not Tom Hanks in Castaway. I’m from a much bigger island strung out on the western shores of Europe. An island called Great Britain that consists of England, Wales and Scotland. And should never be confused with the United Kingdom, which includes Northern Ireland.
Clear!
Don’t worry. Most people in France where I now live, especially in the news and media, don’t know the difference either and lump it all together and call it England. Much to the chagrin of the many Welsh, Irish and Scottish expats who live here.
I’m English but I haven’t lived there for many years and have spent a lot of my adult life living and working in various countries. Finally ending up in France in 2012, where I now work as a groundsman in Normandy.
I’ve been here for twelve years. So is it home?
It’s difficult to say. I was married here, I have all my financial affairs here, I work here, I speak the language. So I should consider it home. But it’s not that straightforward.
