Once upon a time, there was a wee little Britican who went on holiday to visit her grandparents – in California.

 It was love at first sight. The air smelt so sunny, the food tasted so rich, and the voices sounded so warm.

 She was smitten. Every Oreo dipped in milk was bliss, every deer spotted in the garden orchard was a marvellous wonder, and every journey down the winding hills of the Sierra Nevada was a delight.

 When she left, after a month spent languishing in California, road-tripping to the Grand Canyon, and horseback riding in Monument Valley, she was convinced that America was where she wanted to live.

 After that, she obsessed over classic American entertainment - anything to give a glimpse of the landscapes she so loved. The film Thelma and Louise, Guns N Roses video November Rain, even the 70s television show Little House on the Prairie.

She returned to the States whenever she could; to sell her deceased grandparents’ home in California, to study for a semester at a New York college, to visit friends across the country.

 Until the day came that she applied for a job in Los Angeles, and suddenly the dream became a reality, and she prepared to relocate to the ‘ican’ part of her nickname.

 Sure, there had been obstacles. A boyfriend, who in a fit of insanity she entertained the notion of moving to Wales for; a six month passionate affair with the city of London, which was great while it lasted, but ultimately left her feeling claustrophobic; and attachments to family and friends that grew stronger with time.

 But when she made the shortlist for the LA job, the wee little Britican felt that it was time to jump. It was now or never. If she put it off, she would get too comfortable and settled, and lose the chance. She knew she might be back one day and that her love of Britain would never die.

 She knew life in America would not be perfect – that she would encounter struggles, and frustrations, just like anywhere else. But she knew that it was something she needed to do, something she owed to the 10 year old girl she had been at her grandparents’ place in Tuolumne County… whether or not this story had a happy ending.

 So there you have it. My changing circumstances in literary style, appropriate to Calliope I feel! Since I’ll be living in America, I wonder if I should call myself Amerain? Or Amerish? That sounds rather too similar to Amish for my liking, and might confuse people who think that instead of being a dual national, I’m actually a quilt-maker…

 Obviously, I’ll be as involved with Calliope as ever (praise the Lord for the internet, the saviour of international family relationships and literary editing), and will be coming back to you with tales of life as a primarily-English girl in Los Angeles. I fly over this weekend, and besides a little weight-anxiety am rather excited.

 Wish me luck!

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