Whirlwind
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVf2Gi94Hnfy4hd4aHf33nJHaaP9P2bQD5U8RKuxvMKLBZIIM3-6hIzQL7SQD8UiuZ4FgcDpWMJlLp8tkvbtuinlgH5XEhLZvf4QBInsXH9sHGNVFd9DiHQX0Q4opvF7K0fTqrFXBF25KIHUT3muWLNMmcbjX6FkP1ctUeXPOb5NIswfWZM0vDoKGKg/s320/choosing%20place%20on%20map.jpg)
Well, we did it. We decided we were going to do it, and we did it. How, with a 3 year old, you ask? People have undertaken much more heroic and brave adventures than this, and with many more and younger children, dogs, chickens and suitcases than ours. Packing up our house in England and moving to Canada was the last thing I thought and said I'd ever do. But there were reasons - there they were, all shining at me from the table, and I couldn't argue with a single one. So we decided, one month before leaving for a holiday in Canada, that we would be extending our holiday into an immigration. Or is it emmigration? I never remember. Who knows. Who cares? We're in Canada! We are living with my elderly but fantastically wonderful parents. I've never in my life met two such dynamic, loving, caring, interesting, welcoming people. Barring my mum telling us the same thing two or three times in the same conversation and calling me by my sister's or my dad's name once or