I have recently returned to Bournemouth with my husband and our three sons. The boys have grown up wild, hiking in the rain forest of Trinidad. Bournemouth is a big change!

I still scan the ceiling for tarantulas when I wake up in the morning.

I lie there and look up sleepily, to see what hairy pink-toed creature is hanging above me and there it is: a total lack of tarantulas. Not even a horned beetle or large moth stretches and yawns in the sunbeams. This is a little disappointing for my sons, who feel that any tarantula caught in the house makes a perfect pet.

I love it, though. I smile to myself as I walk through the drizzle, with my bags of groceries (strawberries, cream, mushrooms, pork sausages, fresh mixed salad….) I am ready for a little civilization, my friends.

I am ready for free texts to my sister, reliable electricity, weekends in London, coffee and internet at the bookstore, hot water… in fact, clear, running water that you didn’t have to pay a truck to bring you? Is a wonderful thing.

So here we all are, living in Bournemouth. The last time I lived in Bournemouth I was a teenager, and of all the places in England I love it best for my family. We love the sea, and the boys are accomplished sailors and water-babies.

They can’t keep out of it. A few weeks ago, we went to Boscombe. One look at the surfers on the Boscombe ripples and my older boys were buying summer wetsuits (SALE!), renting a board and taking turns ripping those ripples like they were back in Toco. Then they sat on the beach and shivered, laughing at the new adventure.

“I can see my breath!!!”

Our children are so astonished at little things. Sean and I smile to see this great experience through their eyes. Our youngest son has never seen his breath before this, or conkers, or a double-decker bus.

It’s good he’s so overjoyed by these little things, having been uprooted from home, friends, school and beloved grandparents. We have left many things behind: the rainforest, warm weather, vibrant Trinidadian culture.

But the things we have in England are lovely: Aunties who we used to see just a few times a year (they would arrive, bearing Cadbury’s Chocolates and smelling of England) now visit regularly, my grandmother is just a few blocks away, my sister and I cannot so much as fold a towel together without collapsing into giggles.

I love the boys riding their bikes to school, weekends with friends and family in London, strawberries and cream (and a rapidly expanding waistline, alas) (you're laughing at my obsession with strawberries and cream, I can tell), bookstores, libraries! Civilization!

We laugh at the boys’ enthusiasm, and hope that joy will last once the weather becomes bleak. It will. Oh look, it has! The sunny weather that we brought with us in August is leaving us, and boys will be riding to school and back in the drizzle and dark every day. That gets old, doesn’t it?

But while the children may suffer from occasional Tarantulack, I know that Christmas in a new land and all that Bournemouth has to offer will be exciting enough to carry us through the dark and rainy days. We look forward to it. It’s good to be home, away from home.