A love of languages and Free Movement

[Part 1 of the "My Story - SylkeWeb" series.]

To understand who I am and possibly why I am saying what I'm saying, I thought it would help to give a little background. I am doing it in English so that I can share it with friends in the UK. Maybe I'll add it in German afterwards.

Born in the 1960s, I grew up in Germany. I always liked languages and as a teenager my parents sent me on some language-related group travel; I ended up in Folkestone, near Dover, together with some other teenagers who I hardly knew. It was a bit of a mixed experience. After that I took part in the student exchange programme between the twin cities of Hanover and Bristol, twice. I loved this despite staying with a family outside of Bristol, in the sticks. They took me to some places that were well known in the UK but I didn't know anything about them at the time and I guess I was a bit blasé about them (typical teenager). Over time (and with more knowledge) I started to appreciate their efforts a lot more. I sadly lost all contact with the family.

After school, I decided to study languages at university. During that time I also spent half a year as a visiting student in Reading. At this point I was a bit more clued up and made sure to take part in whatever excursions were possible for me financially.

In 1992, after finishing my studies in German and English linguistics, I left my home town Hanover for the UK. I wanted to stay for three months in London. I stayed for three years...

I went there without anything apart from my suitcase. A friend recommended I should go and see if I would be accepted as a job seeker and I received income support without any fuss (which enabled me to rent a room). A little while into this, they put me on an IT course (email was still a new thing at the time!). After I had finished my run, I was asked to teach the IT course myself, and was eventually hired by a small tech company to do technical support for German customers.

Living in London was exhausting and I didn't like the city that much after the initial honeymoon period.

Life then took me away: the small tech company was bought up by another bigger one and they moved all of us (who wanted to go) over to the Netherlands in 1995. With the offer to double my salary that was a no-brainer. I stayed there for seven years (living first in The Hague, then Leiden), in which I also learned a bit of Dutch and met Frank who is now my husband.

Once again, work made a decision for me. In the early 2000s the company decided to move us all over to Dublin in Ireland, which again had a good monetary incentive, so Frank and I went along. I loved my job as a supervisor for a small web admin and translation team. After three years, I got pregnant and Frank had found a new job within the same company, but over in the UK. So another move happened, to a smaller town this time, and I stopped working and became a full-time mother.

Having a baby is a great way to get to know local people. We bought a house in Winchester, I made many good friends and we stayed there for twelve years. I was well integrated, even volunteering in school, for the local Scouts and as secretary for a local community group, met with local councillors every month to discuss community issues, after a while often knowing more about how things work than the people who lived there long before me... Life was fine even though there were some niggles (that I simply ignored as you get them everywhere).

And then the 2016 referendum happened. The result was something I had not anticipated and it gave me plenty to think about. One thing was clear: after 26 years living in other EU countries, I felt through and through European!

Final considerations…

It has been building for a few years. When the children were born and my husband Rob and I went to Germany for our annual summer vacation, sitting in the evening sun, on the large garden patio, overlooking my mum and dad’s huge garden, the conversation often turned to ifs and whens and whether it would be possible for us to come to live in Germany.

I am an only child and when my children were born, there were many fears of what would happen to them, if anything happened to me and my husband. Who would look after them and who would ensure the “family on the continent” had access. Sufficient access.

But the years drew in and, as both my husband and I were in employed jobs, with a mortgage, cars that were still owned by the bank and kids in education system, the ability to make a decision and move to Germany seemed less and less of a possibility. We made the best of it, went during the holidays and sent the children across on their own, once they were old enough for assisted flights.

We played with the idea of retiring in Germany, hoping that our family here would hang in for that long, so we could look after them. And looking after them … it became more and more of a factor that sat niggling in the back of my mind, the older I got, and the older my mum and dad got in Germany. How easy would it be to come across and look after them for a number of weeks or months. Could I leave my life in the UK for that amount of time, when it became necessary.

We made the best of having family in a different country and relished our multicultural life. For a long time we thought we had the best of both worlds.

Then things changed, we left our beautiful home in a rural setting in East Lothian, Scotland, where we were firmly integrated into church life and had a lot of friends and moved to Fife. We wanted to be nearer Rob’s parents and we also wanted to be in a urban setting to allow the children more flexibility in terms of schooling and hobbies when they grew up.

From the moment we arrived the small town mentality started hurting me. I had, and still have friends that are open, honest, educated and do not care what your skin colour is or where you come from. But there were many people, increasingly more, where I could here a slight “undertone”. Quintessentially British, it was quiet, hardly noticeable, but it was there. It was the mental equivalent of the turned up nose. A slight hesitance to sit next to you at school performances, a wry smile when the children told of our “different Christmas”, a raised eyebrow at window boxes with hanging flowers. Just an astonishment that it was important to us to preserve our cultural inheritance whether Scottish or German. It got worse the older my children got, especially in primary school. From pointing out how “Germanic” they looked to being openly bullied in football and other sports clubs … my children were always given the feeling they were different and they did not belong. They were overlooked and side passed for others, less talented, but more Scottish. My husband began to suffer, developing feelings from rage to exhaustion, but never able to put a finger on what exactly was going on and why it was going on.

Then the Referendum came. In the run up, I tried to talk to as many people as possible, trying to make my voice heard, as I did not have any say. I implored why ask the question in the first place. Coming from a divided country – I could not understand. It seem illogical and backwards, wanting to cause divide, especially as Scotland in particular voted against exactly that in their own referendum for independence a year or so earlier. When the news came – it seemed surreal. When the time passed, nothing changed. Life went on, the teenagers turned into young adults and created their own futures.

But something niggled away. With every visit to Germany, it became harder to return to the UK. With every visit to Germany, time spent with family there seemed to become more important.

I can no longer remember what the final straw was – but everything was wrong – and then, everything was right. I was now self-employed and could take my job with me. My parents would move in with us and finance a new home – to allow us the financial ability to live on one wage, for my husband to learn German and to give them the security to know they are looked after for the rest of their lives. The children were in two minds – one wanted to go straight away, the other did not want to go at all. And we told them it would take time – it is not easy to find a house that would fit all six of us, two dogs and three horses, who of course had to come too.

The perfect location.

But there it was. Three weeks later, the perfect property in the perfect location. Hills that my dad loves so much, a friendly neighbourhood, a brilliant location with easy access to larger cities, in case my mum needs more intense medical care.

It was all too quick, too intense, too emotional … but it was happening. At this time in 2018 we decided to buy a property in Germany and started getting our house in Scotland ready to get sold. And while family and the promise of a better lifestyle had a huge part in the decision, the uncertainty of what the future would hold for me in the UK was our trigger. We were leaving.