summer

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We’ve long suspected it, and now it appears to be true – the French, those lucky blighters, have the best quality of life in Europe.

Or, at least, so says a new study by consumer comparison service uSwitch.com[1].

Its research examined 16 quality of life factors – such as net income, food and fuel costs, life expectancy and working conditions – across 10 European countries to see how they stacked up.

France emerged with the best overall score, followed by Spain. The UK came ninth, with Ireland propping up the bottom of the table.

The reason for the UK’s poor score, said uSwitch, included its high living costs, below average government spending on health and education, shortage of holiday entitlements, high retirement age and lack of sunshine.

France, by contrast, was found to have the lowest retirement age, the longest life expectancy and the highest healthcare spend.

Meanwhile, Spain benefited from low living costs (especially for alcohol and cigarettes!), the highest number of holidays (at 43 days per year) and most sunshine hours.

The firm went on to note that three in ten people in the UK believe now is a good time to emigrate[2]. Given the low quality of life it seems they can expect to enjoy, is it any wonder?

The Full Picture

Yet before everyone starts packing their bags for France and Spain, it is important to remember that while such surveys make for attention-grabbing headlines, they don’t show the full picture.

For instance, the uSwitch report gives no consideration to the countries’ current or expected economic growth rates. Or what about the 20% unemployment rate afflicting Spain?

It gives no weighting either to the burdensome red tape that is so often cited as a feature of life in France and Italy.

The percentage of GDP spent on health is a blunt tool too by which to measure and compare the efficacy of countries’ systems. The United States, for one, spends a considerably higher percentage of its GDP on health, yet millions of its citizens remain without adequate, or indeed any, health cover.

The uSwitch survey also takes it as given that the greater the hours of sunshine the better. Yet the impressive sunshine quota seen in southern Europe – as well as places such as California and parts of Australia – bring with it high summer temperatures that frequently provoke raging forest fires, water shortages, pest infestations and crop failures.

In addition, the summer heat may force residents, especially the elderly, to spend weeks of the year trapped indoors, and can even lead to spiking death rates (as seen in Europe during the 2003 heatwave).

In short, these types of reports and surveys – a plethora of which are produced around the world each year – can give some helpful indication of the life you can expect to find when moving abroad. But to get a real picture, don’t forget to consider all the elements, the pros and the cons, and what they mean specifically to you.


[1] UK and Ireland Trailing the Rest of Europe for Quality of Life, uSwitch.com, 22 September 2010, http://www.uswitch.com/press-room/press-releases/uk-and-ireland-trailing-the-rest-of-europe-for-quality-of-life-1769.pdf.

[2] uSwitch.com Consumer Opinion Panel, May 2010, amongst a sample of 3,640 adults.

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Spain 30 – England 20.

No, it’s not some freakish football score. It’s the current temperature differential between our home in the UK and our former one in the north-east of Spain.

The forecast for the coming week in England doesn’t look much more promising either. Temperatures barely struggling out of the teens centigrade, and the threat of heavy rain showers. Yippee.

Remind me – why did we move back to the UK?

Sort of summer

Still, that’s a British summer for you.  The odd few days of glorious sunshine, when there seems like no more beautiful place to be on Earth, followed by leaden skies and rain squalls.

It’s a season of uncertainty – periods of joy mixed with gloom. One day you’re in shorts and sandals and the next it’s jumpers and coats.

As for making plans to enjoy the Great Outdoors … in the words of Hugh Grant in Mickey Blue Eyes, Forgeddaboutit.

In other words, hardly ideal conditions when you have kids who want to be spending their days building sandcastles on the beach, or splashing around in a pool.

(For that matter, have you swum in the sea around Britain recently? Are you crazy?)

Sunshine costs

Nevertheless, seeing the BBC News reminded me that the scorching summers seen across southern Europe and elsewhere do have their downsides.

For instance, parts of the Spanish coast are being plagued at present by an invasion of jellyfish, to the painful detriment of the people that have come in contact with them.

Meanwhile, swathes of northern Portugal are being cremated by a series of forest fires, an annual occurrence in many parts of the region.

There is, after all, a price to be paid for the sun.

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Golf, I’ve discovered, is not like riding a bike. Picking up a club for the first time in five years and expecting to smash ball after ball down the middle of the fairway was always going to be wishful thinking. I mean, if Tiger struggles with his game after months out what hope did I have?

At least the conditions were perfect. It was one of those glorious English summer evenings: the warm sun dipping towards the horizon, soft June light, shadows lengthening across the rolling green fairways, woodpigeons calling from the branches … the thwack of small white golf balls clattering into yet another copse of trees.

And, quality of play aside, it was great to get out last night for a hack round with my brothers, the first time we’d done it since before I moved to Spain seven years ago.

In fact, the last time I played was with my eldest brother, when he came to visit shortly after we moved abroad. On that occasion we tried out the Empordà Golf Resort, one of a string of top-notch courses to be found close to our home on the Costa Brava. Unfortunately, that was as far as my Spanish golf career got. Places like PGA Catalunya, which is ranked number seven in Golf World magazine’s Top 100 European courses, remain an unfulfilled dream.

For despite the fantastic facilities and ideal weather in Spain, time was always a problem.

The expat lifestyle may seem to be one of leisurely days spent drinking wine and soaking up the sun, but that isn’t the reality for most. I still had to work hard all week. And with two young daughters to look after it never seemed fair for me to slope off for five hours on the weekend to play, especially when we had no other family around to ease my wife’s childcare load.

As a result, it’s taken our repatriation to the UK for me to be able to dust off the clubs. That, and the chance to spend valuable time with my brothers, are among the plus points of moving back. If only I could have brought some of those magnificent courses with me.

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It was my wedding anniversary yesterday, which put me in mind of some of the good and bad aspects of living abroad.

Unlike our actual wedding day, when we were fortunate to be bathed in sunshine from dawn to dusk, yesterday saw uninterrupted grey, glowering skies. The sort of poor excuse for summer for which Britain is renowned.

But that is what the English weather holds. One day it can be glorious, when you think summer is finally here to stay; the next it is cold, wet and windy. Temperamental.

It’s not what we had become accustomed to during our years living on the Spanish Mediterranean coast, where a long summer of heat and sunshine were guaranteed, promising endless days in the pool or on the beach. Indeed, it was one of the major reasons for us moving abroad in the first place. Re-acclimatising to what England has to offer will not be easy.

The upside to repatriating to the UK is the contact it gives us with family and friends, and the support network that is now on hand.

Yesterday, for instance, my in-laws offered to babysit, giving my wife and me the chance to head off to a restaurant for the evening. It was the first time we had been able to go out to celebrate our anniversary since our children were born, as living abroad meant there was no extended family around to watch them.

Such constraints don’t affect all expats. But If you’ve been used to having parents or siblings around to lend a hand while you go to the shops or the doctor, or look after the kids while you have a well-earned night out with friends or your partner, then their sudden absence can come as a big shock. Something to consider!

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It had a certain inevitability. The UK’s May Day bank holiday weekend beckoned, but after a surprisingly warm and sunny April what happened? A washout.

The bank holiday was supposed to see us picnicking in the local park, catching up with old friends, many of whom we hadn’t seen for years thanks to our expatriation. A chance for us to meet each other’s kids, reflect on how we’ve all changed in the seven years since we moved to Spain.

But the rain, whipped up by a north-east wind and chilled by 10°C temperatures, put paid to that. Time for Plan B. So we found ourselves splashing through puddles en route to a tenpin bowling alley in a desperate attempt to find some indoor activity to keep the children entertained.

The usual British holiday routine, in other words. Welcome home!

Mind you, it’s no better in the corner of Spain where we used to live. From the Catalan meteorological bureau I see much of the Pyrenean region is being layered in fresh dumps of snow at the moment. And the Costa Bravan coast – normally basking in warm Mediterranean sunshine by now – is stuck with maximum temperatures of just 13°C, while being pummelled by rain and the fierce northerly wind known as the tramuntana.

Seems the cold winter so many parts of the world experienced this year just doesn’t want to let go. What will summer bring, I wonder?

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We had some friends come to visit last Saturday. They were on holiday in France, a couple of hours up the road, and so took the opportunity to drive across the border into our corner of northern Spain to see us for the day.

 

Last time they did the same journey they got held up for hours in traffic and shortly after they arrived we were hit by a massive thunderstorm. This time though the journey was quick and the sky cloudless. After they arrived we all went in our pool for an hour. Their three young children thought it was marvellous – a pool in the back garden!

 

Afterwards we had a long lunch. And then later in the afternoon, when the sun had dipped a little, we strolled along to the beach, where we swam and built sandcastles with the children.

 

Both sets of kids played nicely together all day and had a wonderful time. As did we adults. At the end of the day the parents turned to us and said, “You have a great life here.”

 

They were right. We know it. That’s why we moved here in the first place, for the long sunny summers, to have the Mediterranean on our doorstep.

 

For our friends it was a perfect holiday day: the sun, the warmth, the pool, the beach. By contrast, for us it was a pretty normal Saturday. No doubt we’ll be doing something similar this weekend.

 

And our choice of location has been reaffirmed all week. Each day has dawned bright and clear. It’s been relentless sunshine and baking temperatures.

 

Britain, meanwhile, has been enjoying its traditional August weather: rainy, windy and cold.

 

There is a downside though to this ‘idyllic’ existence, and that shone through the day after our friends were here. At breakfast our three-year old asked: “When can we see them again? I miss them already.”

 

And, of course, we do too. Whenever we get together with them we have fun. If we were in England they would be among our closest friends. But we’re not. Instead we see them once a year at best, more often once every two years.

 

And that’s the pattern of our life. It seems we, and our young daughters, are always saying goodbye to the people we love: my wife’s parents, our siblings, nieces and nephews and friends. And our daughters wonder why.

 

Yes, we do have a great lifestyle here. It’s all the things we wanted. If only our family and friends would move over too! Then it would be complete.

 

But that’s not going to happen. So instead there is a choice: a great lifestyle in one place, or family and dear friends in another.

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So we’ve hit July, which marks the high summer season on the Spanish costas, and indeed all round the Mediterranean.

 

The beginning of the month sees the start of the school holidays in France, and so we get the French influx as people hop across the border. They are followed by ever growing numbers of Dutch and Belgians and Germans. Then, at the end of July, the Brits start to roll in. And once we get into August it’s the Spaniards, many of whom stick to tradition and have the whole month as vacation.

 

From now through to August 31 the beaches will be packed, the restaurants and bars mobbed, the roads chock full of cars with foreign plates driven by people who haven’t a clue where they’re going.

 

It’s both a boost and a bane.

 

I hate the fact that I can’t even get in the car park at the local supermarket, and that the check-out queues will stretch back to the ends of the aisles. That the idyllic and almost deserted beachside pathway we stroll along most days out of season will become so crowded that there’s now a 50-50 chance of getting run over by a cyclist or out of control roller-blader.

 

But I like the life the summer, and its tourists, bring to the place. Like so many coastal places, our little fishing town can be somewhat ghostly through the winter. But in summer it’s pulsing.

 

And of course we get to enjoy the blessed golden days and balmy nights that attract the tourists in the first place. It’s the price, I suppose, of paradise.

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My daughter broke up from school for the summer holidays yesterday. That’s twelve weeks of glorious freedom ahead.

 

It’s probably just in time too. After an unusually wet and cool spring in our north-eastern corner of Spain the weather has taken a sudden change. Summer has arrived with a vengeance – cloudless skies, little more than a zephyr of breeze, and soaring temperatures. And the forecast is for more of the same, only getting hotter.

 

The full heat of a Spanish summer therefore makes the long vacation something of a necessity. And of course it’s fantastic for the kids. When I was growing up our six week summer break from school seemed like forever. But three months! And being able to spend it on a Mediterranean beach … it makes me green just thinking about it.

 

Still, it’s not so great for the parents, for two reasons.

 

Firstly, three months is a long time to be out of the school routine, with its timetable and the habit of learning that comes with being in the classroom. So how are you going to keep them from going crazy with boredom and in that learning mindset through the extended break, so they’re not hardened against school and all it represents when they go back in the autumn?

 

And secondly, if both parents go out to work, as is increasingly common, what are you going to do about childcare? Foist your little angels off on the grandparents for three months? Get a nanny? Quit your job?

 

Or maybe do what many of the Spanish parents seem to and enrol the children in summer school for the duration. Makes you wonder then though why the education department bothers having the long summer break!

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