There are a lot of advantage to being an ex-pat – take if from one who knows. But having said that, there’s no place like home. I’m British to the bone and miss being in England all the time, especially at this time of the year. Autumn is my favourite season, and here are some of the things that I miss the most.
The beautiful colours as the trees lose their leaves. Raking up the leaves and having huge bonfires.
Curling up in front of a roaring log fire on a chilly autumn evening with a good book, closing the curtains on the cold weather and fortifying myself with a glass of wine or six.
Long walks in woodland that’s changed little over the decades, where my dog can run off his lead without committing a violation.
And, of course, my family. My lovely Mum is 87 and I miss seeing her every single day. I also have three great nephews and I’m missing seeing them grow up.
And then there’s that sense of belonging. You understand the way things work and can have a good old gripe about the political system, the price of petrol, (you Yanks don’t realise how fortunate you are in that respect), and have an orgy of spending in the shops you’ve known and loved since forever.
Okay, so the grass is always greener – and few places have greener grass than England – all that rain, you see. If I was there I’d probably be whinging about the cold and getting annoyed about all the mud the dog traipsed into the house. And yes, log fires are work. Someone has to order the logs, haul them into the house, coax the wretched fire into life and then clean it out again the following morning.
I don’t care! My rose tinted specs are firmly in place, I’m having a ‘what the hell am I doing living this gypsy life’ moment, and I want to go home. See you soon, Mum.