Exactly three months ago, we arrived in England.

Three months. A quarter of a year. It's quite a long time, yet in many ways it feels as though we've only just arrived. I think that's due to having spent our first month living out of suitcases in Gloucestershire, and then having Bobby's dad die soon after we'd moved here so that we had to make that trip to South Africa ... In a way, our real lives here only started when we got back from South Africa last month and were finally able to start establishing rhythms and routines for our daily lives.

Life in England seems to be suiting all three children very well. They all settled into their schools amazingly easily - it has seemed almost too easy, in fact. I keep waiting for things to fall apart for them, but, so far so good. All of them are thriving academically; all of them have friends.

Bobby seems much more relaxed; much happier; much calmer. He is not deliriously excited about his new job, but he doesn't dread going to work the way he used to. The new job is so much less stressful for him; his boss isn't a lunatic, he doesn't feel responsible for everyone there, and he's home around 4.30 every afternoon. So much more time with me; so much more time with the children; so much more time to do things that interest him.

As for me ... The jury is still out. Some days I feel sure that we have done the right thing in moving here; other days I feel equally sure that we should have stayed where we were. On the tough days, I remind myself that Florida didn't really feel like home till we'd been there - oh, probably two and a half years? So - I'll give it time. And use the same approach that I used when I arrived in the US : never say no to a new experience (even if it involves missionary Baptists and learning to tie ribbons artistically) and try to enjoy each moment as it comes, rather than worry about the future or look back to the past.