as of today, I have lived in Oxford for 30 years, which also means more than half my life. Slightly scary thought, but I always thought if I have to get stuck somewhere, Oxford is a good place to get stuck. May 21 1993 was the day when our furniture (and Heinrich the cello) was delivered to our rented house in Derwent Avenue, so I count that as the arrival date, even though the rest of the family arrived the day before and I had spent a few more days at the youth hostel* in Jack Straws Lane before that. Here's one of the first two Oxford photos in our album, dated June 1993:
A bit of family perspective: Neither of my parents and none of my grandparents have lived in the same place as long as half their lifetime. Of my great-grandparents, Heinrich the cellist and his wife Maria did (after settling at Elberfeld/Wuppertal), Adam the baker and Anna Barbara did (at Lorsch), Heinrich the station master of Minden Stadt and Luise did, but adventurous Julius and wife Helene very emphatically didn't. For Julius, his years growing up in Krefeld were easily the longest stay, whereas for Helene her final 27 years in Bad Nauheim were. She lived to age 87, so that's not even a third.
Obviously, I could still tip the balance by moving somewhere else, but as even the Brexiteers haven't quite managed to kick me out, I guess I'll just hang on.
*Note re the youth hostel - a couple of years later, the building became a nursery and the new hostel behind the railway station was built which has now disappeared. So at least one major buildings has been built and knocked down in the time I've lived here. Now that is a scary thought.
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