Even though I have been an Australian for over twenty years now, there is still an England in my heart. It is the England of my ancestors.
I am a migrant in Australia. I was a migrant in England. Many of my ancestors were migrants. They either migrated from other countries to England, or from one area of England to another.
During my childhood, my family made a temporary migration every summer from central England to the coast of north west Wales, where we lived in a tent in a field for several weeks. In my teens, I migrated with my family from central England to the north of Scotland.
When my mother was a child, her family migrated from Shropshire to Staffordshire. It was not a very long journey in geographical terms but it was a major upheaval in her parents' lives nevertheless.
When my father was a child, during the Second World War, he moved with his mother from South Wales to London to Devon and then back to London. After the war, his family moved to Staffordshire. His father had moved as a child from Northern Ireland to Devon. His mother had grown up in London but her father's parents had migrated from Belgium.
I was a migrant of some sort when I moved back to Staffordshire from the Scottish Highlands after finishing school. I then migrated from Staffordshire to London when I finished college, havving been offered my first full-time job - at the BBC.
Winters in England are something I do not miss while living in Australia! When I lived in London, I liked to travel to somewhere warmer every winter, whenever that opportunity arose.
I met my husband in South America on one of those journeys.