...is for France.
I've lived not far from half my life in France, and nearly all my adult life so far. D is now going through one of his paranoid phases, telling me disturbing crap such as, "I need to prepare myself for a move to the UK in case I need to leave France one day and you should do the same as I guess you won't want to be far from the girls..." I have no idea what this means, in concrete terms, but I do know I'm going to fight it, tooth and nail.
I very, very much enjoy taking the girls to England every other year (wish it were more often, but it's so damn expensive), catching up with my very closest friends, J, M and H. The girls love going, there are children to play with, they all get along well, they really have fun. And they speak English (which is more than they ever do with me).
But I have no desire to go and live in the UK. For one thing, where on earth could I afford? Wherever it may be is likely to be a fair distance from J, M and H, so I'd know no one, have a job that brings me into contact with no one and the girls would be launched into English school life, most likely very much against their will.
So no. For me, it's absolutely not on the cards. I don't know what the laws are about this type of problem - separated parents with no official shared custody ruling from a judge, and one of whom wishes to move to some place far away... I guess I should find out, know my rights.
France is home to me, even though I don't feel even remotely French and have no intention of taking French nationality (I do, however, intend to renew Carla's GB passport and get one done for Lydie). Montpellier is a great city - not too big, not too small. And it has palm trees growing all over the place FFS.
F is for France and France is my home. And I think it always will be. For the foreseeable future, anyway. Screw D and his paranoia.