Back in the late 1980s we bought ourselves a holiday home in the South of France. My wife had had been in a nasty accident and felt that a few weeks every year in a warm climate would help her recover. I stayed at work and she came down here for the summer.
Then in the early 1990s, just after I had turned fifty, my employer offered me early retirement with an immediate pension. We found ourselves living abroad most of the time and sold our house in the UK and got our first Cartes de Sejour. Later on we bought another house in France. One more suitable for permanent residence. Plus a something we had always dreamed of. Next to the Med.
And the years passed. We got older. My wife had more medical problems and, sadly, she was diagnosed with cancer and died earlier this year.
Which brings me to the point I want to make. Some people said to me āSo you will be going back to the UK now?ā. And I replied āNoā. Consciously acknowledging something that had been a reality for many years. France is my home. Some of my children and siblings live in North America. Perhaps itās a genetic thing. This is not so unusual. When I look at the Anglophones that I have met in France many have similar family backgrounds.