Twenty-seven years ago today I landed in this country, slightly adrift in terms of where and what I might be headed towards, and thus commenced a rollercoaster ride into full adulthood and beyond.
A couple of points worth noting:
- I never came to the UK seeking citizenship, I already had two other nationalities to my name, one of which enabled me to settle and work here without the need for a visa;
- I believed - correctly as it turned out - that any career I sought was best pursued in London given the opportunities, cosmopolitan mix, and proximity to Europe that it offered.
Now, close to three decades later, I approach this anniversary with mixed feelings.
With the Brexit vote last year I have found myself in a similar quandary to many others in my situation.
Do I remain in the country that I have called home for more than half my life?
The honest truth is I don't know. Given family, friends, work, social life, health, education and much more, there is too much at stake to make a rash decision. Ironic that OH - who is British - would happily decamp tomorrow to warmer climes Down Under.
So what would otherwise have been an occasion for celebration feels far more subdued now. The country I call home is feeling somewhat unwelcoming.
A nation divided? Definitely.
A nation defined now by tarnished ideals and lies? Absolutely.
Not sure that sits comfortably with the values I wish for me and my family any longer.
In the meantime, work and plan, work and plan, work and plan...