Now My Turn…

Now I’ve done the brief history of homeschool in our house I want to return to my saner days before I ventured across the pond to gallop off into the sunset with my hat toting, spur wearing, real cowboy!

I had lived in many different countries for the first 20 something years of my life.  Then for the second 20 something years I lived in just one different country.

I started life with my parents in Hostert, West Germany, always a sticking point when I fill out official forms like my Social Security application, insurance forms, and visa renewals.  The administrators of these forms look at me as if expecting to see a Hitleresque moustache lurking, cannily under my nose.  I spent my childhood travelling with my parents as they diplomatically made their way through the Middle East.

When I graduated from London University I moved from the hustle and bustle of England’s capital to a small island off the coast of France.  Here I learned that the Guernsey patois had no words to adequately express the urgency of putting off doing something until tomorrow.

My next move was to Southern Andalusia where all time, as I had known it, ground to a halt.  This complete abandonment of the clock could only compete with God.  Lunches stretched for hours, siestas were mandatory until 5pm, dinner was taken, with children, at 10pm or 11pm and in August the whole country closed down so that everyone could go on holiday.

After a couple of years of Mediterranean living my biological clock began ticking and I was ready to pack up my tiny suitcase and snazzy duffel to head across the pond, which is where my story began.

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