Before I entered the world in 1972, my parents were given a choice by the local council. Either stay in our current property, or move to New Zealand. Yes, that’s right. New Zealand. The council were rehoming some families from the area and I could have been a Kiwi from the land of the long white cloud.
All ifs and buts though. My parents declined the offer, mainly because of Dad’s work and the impending arrival of yours truly. So we stayed in London. But it could have been so different. Dad liked New Zealand and he would have been right at home there. But needs must. I would love to go there, but it is an awfully long way, and the idea of sitting on a plane for 25 hours doesn’t appeal. I can hardly stomach a flight of 25 minutes!
It would have been a life changing move. I wish it had happened. But no, I’m still in England, tucked up in bed with a dose of the lurgie. Much water has passed under the bridge in 45 plus years…..and this is my home.