It was February 1st, 1977 when my Dad and then pregnant Mom packed up my Sister and I and took us to England.  My Dad is a Pastor and was assigned to open a branch of their Church in London, England.  Originally, we were only to be there for three – six months.  Six months turned into nine which turned into a year.

My Mother was not exactly thrilled with the thought of flying over an ocean and then to realize that she had to have her third baby over there, was even more upsetting.  My Sister and I, well we made the most of it.

Although I was only six going on seven, I remember England well.  I even remember our address and the blue door to our house at 5 Lynton Court, Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey SM2 5DL. We rented a furnished flat that had two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen (and yes, a bathroom too!).  I remember the embroidered furniture and the table where we ate breakfast every day.

While we lived at 5 Lyton Court Elvis died, my little Sister was born, I learned how to speak with a British accent, we went to Paris (I like to say for my Birthday, but it was just a coincidence that we were there on my birthday), we rode trains and  visited more Castles than you could imagine.  We celebrated in Piccadilly Circus and visited the Statue of Lord Nelson so many times that my older Sister and I would cry when Dad would say, we are visiting the Statue that Grandma named me after.  Riding on a double decker bus was nothing and taking the Tube was a weekly occurance.

My Older Sister and I at the Tour Eiffel, October 1977 

Dad drove a Moris Minor that we pretended was a surfer car and Mom would cry when my Sister and I would belt out ‘O Canada from the back seat.  When my little Sister was born Mom and Dad had a stroller where the carbed part would come off and they would put her in the back, on rainy days (what days weren’t rainy?) we would hold our umbrellas over her because the back leaked.

On a rare sunny day in the summer, we would pack into the Minor and head to Brighton Beach.  I remember how strange it was that instead of sand the beach was full of pebbles and how there were no change stations and everyone just changed out in public (they don’t do that anymore).  But, no matter how much fun we had my Sister and I would secretly talk about how we were going to get back to Canada.  My Sister and her friend Paul were practicing a song that they hoped to enter on a television show and win.  I don’t even remember what they were going to win, but to my Sister it was her ticket back to Canada.  We left before they got their chance, but it was fun singing our way through the rainy winter.

My Sister and I in a bouncy caslte at Brigton Beach, Summer 1977.

By the time we had been there six months Mom and Dad had enrolled us in school, Devonshire Public.  I made a best friend, Liana Weekes. And her Mom, June, and my Mom became lifelong friends. Liana saved me from kids that I didn’t know.  I was so shy, but she was so outgoing and we were like glue.  Liana and June actually visited us in Canada twice and June came on a cruise to Quebec City about five years ago and Mom and Dad popped up to see her.  Sadly June passed away two years ago now but, both our Mom’s never stopped chatting on the phone for those 30 years.

Since my Sister and I never thought we would leave England it came as quite a shock when one night Dad came home and announced, “Tomorrow we are going home.”  I think my Sister and I screamed so hard we woke the baby, but Mom didn’t care because we were bound for Canada.  We went to school to say good-bye to our friends and left for the airport with 13 boxes packed in and on top of the Morris Minor and our friends Mini.  We flew to New York were we missed our connection to Ottawa.  We had to sit and wait stand-by.  Some ticket agent took a look at my Mom with her three kids, just praying to get home and squeezed us in on the next flight.  We got into Ottawa in the middle of a cold February night, exactly a year and a day after we left.  We were never so happy to see snow and Ottawa.  And when we arrived at our friends house (across the street from our own house that people were renting out) surprising the kids, it was like a reunion. It was bliss.

Until about six years ago I had never even wanted to return to England, but now I think it would be nice.  To go back and see where we lived.  Go visit the Tower of London and appreciate everything through the eyes of an adult.  Have lunch with Liana and her husband Ken and take a trip to Paris and actually go up the Eiffel Tower this time.  One day perhaps, one day.