A year of NOT traveling abroad

Traveling abroad is a central tenet of our existence here. It's one of our raisons d'être as expats. A core belief.
A primary motivator. My most favorite thing to do!

And yet for a year we stayed snug behind the U.K.'s borders, with nary a toe beyond Britain's shores.

How did we let that come to pass?!

Granted, the British coastline can be pretty spectacular. Here, the Old Man of Hoy stands defiantly against the sea. (Orkneys, Scotland)

Sometimes, having a family really squashes your international travel bug.

I blame it on Kate. And Jackson. And Finley.

Our last jaunt abroad consisted of 4½ days in Prague. At the time we booked it, we didn't know Prague would be our last international trip. But even had we known, we wouldn't have changed a thing. What a traveler's gem! A glorious old town, a vibrant new town, everywhere chockablock with fantastic architecture and beauty and history. We returned from Prague—a fantastic long-weekend city, if ever there was one—at the end of July 2015.

One of the best ways to fall in love with Prague is to view it from the many—as many as you can!—towers in the city.

Earlier in July, however, we had found out Kate was pregnant with Finley. And as if pregnancy wasn't enough big news, on that same day Kate got a job offer in Bristol.

All of a sudden: pregnancy.

All of a sudden: new job.

All of a sudden: a move across the country.

These, folks, are gamechangers for your travel plans. Any one of them will ruin derail alter your globetrotting plans. But all of them in close succession, well, . . .

                                                                       . . . boom goes the dynamite.

Suddenly, your time is not your own anymore. Pregnant bellies have appointments and checkups, and you must curtail non-essential travel as the due date gets near. New jobs usually mean months of solid work without sneaking off for an overseas trip, especially when you have maternity leave looming. And moving across the country, well, that's a time-suck hassle of planning, packing, and unpacking which deserves its own circle of hell.

To some extent, the timing of all these things wasn't deliberate. We were trying for a baby, but that was taking awhile. Kate wasn't looking for a new job, but randomly came across an advertisement for it. And even with the job offer, not everything was settled because the new employer had to secure a government license to offer a job with a work visa, and then after that the U.K. Home Office had to approve us for the (new) work visa.

That left us in a holding pattern, knowing we were likely moving to Bristol but not absolutely sure of it. The process took months. We finally moved to Bristol last November, more than four months after the job offer.

In our time in Scotland, we had been diligent about seeing as much of the country as we could. With our exit looming, I resolved to see as much of the remaining bits as I could.

If you can't go abroad, explore the home turf

The official (but not quite accurate) northernmost tip of Britain.

Even before our trip to Prague, we had scheduled an epic journey through the distant north of Scotland. We took this trip in August 2015, just a couple of weeks after we returned from Prague.

Starting in Inverness (actually, we started from our home in Glasgow, but stayed the first night in Inverness) we headed up the eastern coast, drove along the entire northern coast of mainland Scotland, and then headed down the western coast through Ullapool and back toward Glasgow. That swing through the northernmost highlands was named the "North Coast 500" by a Scottish tour association in February 2015, and it's a brilliant (re)-branding of a long-existing route through the most remote stretches of Scotland. We had planned our route before the "North Coast 500" became a a hot tourist buzzword, but it was a nice confirmation of our own trip. I'll have a lot more about the North Coast 500 and the northern highlands in some upcoming posts.

Driving in the Assynt in northwestern Scotland, part of the North Coast 500.

Moreoever, we expanded our North Coast 500 spin by an additional eight days to immerse ourselves in the Orkneys. That island chain, just a few miles north of mainland Scotland, is one of my favorite places in Scotland. Breathtaking, fascinating, amazing. I can't gush about it enough. Truly awe-inspiring. You can be sure that some future posts will share oodles of Orkney glory.

Through the rest of August, September, October, and into November, I soaked up as much of Scotland as I could. I visited scores of sites, from little places in Glasgow to UNESCO World Heritage locations across the country. I won't bore you with a list of all the spots, but here's a small sampling of photos from places I went during those last few months:

The Cathedral of the Isles, a Victorian-era church on the island of Cumbrae.

Scotland's newest UNESCO World Heritage site, the Forth Bridge, spans the Firth of Forth north of Edinburgh.

Dunnottar Castle has a magnificent setting on the North Sea, but its ruins are mediocre.

I'm a huge fan of the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo, one of premier annual events on Scotland's cultural calendar. (2015 Tattoo)

Abbotsford House, the former home of Sir Walter Scott, nestles in the rolling hills of the Scottish Borders.

Kate and Jackson take a selfie on historic Inchcolm island.

Two of the "Three Sisters" of Glencoe.

Through all these explorations, I took in a glorious Scottish autumn, with all its vibrant colors. Fall lasts longer in Scotland than I expect it to, well into November. The picturesque Border Abbeys might be at their prettiest during autumn:

Melrose Abbey at the end of October.

Despite all these last-minute trips around Scotland, we also had to throw in a long weekend trip to Bristol to find a place to live.

The school calendar is mightier than your travel plans

Once we moved to England, we had to get Jackson started in school. Whereas in Scotland kids start at age five, in England they generally start at age four.

And when your kid is in school, your travel plans will never be as easy again.

Moving, starting a new job, and getting pregnant are all sticks of dynamite that can blow up your travel freedom. But they pale in the face of the dynamite colossus: school calendars.

We no longer get to pick when we travel. We have no choices now. We can only go abroad when the school is on break:

          •   a week in February
          •   two weeks in April
          •   a week in June
          •   six weeks in July/August
          •   a week in October
          •   two weeks in December 

Jackson on the first day of school this September.

Everyone with school-age kids in England has roughly this schedule. We're all tethered to it. Unlike in the States, where you can take your kid out of school when you like without much consequence, here in England the schools have the right to fine you for every day of absence and even pursue a criminal conviction. No joke. There are examples of schools seeking criminal convictions for parents who took their kids out of school for just a few days to go to grandparents' funerals. These aren't idle threats by school officials; they've gone to trial.

Basically, if you don't have permission from your school's headteacher you're looking at a daily fine for an absence. And if those fines don't work, you better be prepared to hire a defense attorney.

School calendar   >   fun family trip to a foreign country

Getting a new baby's passport and visa will take months, so no jet-setting

When we knew Kate was pregnant, but before we knew Jackson would need to be enrolled in school in England, we started envisioning the travel we could do while Kate was on maternity leave. Months of time stretched tantalizingly out before us. A grand tour of Europe! Find a spot for a couple of weeks, explore all around with day trips, then move on the next spot. We could hit a half dozen or more countries over the course of several months. Let's go!

They'll sleep anywhere, including a hike among the Somerset bluebells.

Granted, we'd need to wait at least a few weeks after birth to make sure the new bambino was healthy and able to go. After our early experience with Jackson, we knew that was not always a given. But assuming all went well, the bebé would be just an extra passenger on tour.

After all, infants might be the easiest travelers. Mostly, they eat and sleep. And sleep. And sleep. Put 'em in a stroller and you're free to roam. Infants are much easier than toddlers, for example, who want to be up and around and have their own little opinions.

But then reality hit. Jackson would be in school, and the mighty school calendar would rear its ugly grid.

Couldn't we at least travel abroad during those school breaks?

Nope.

The new lil' scribbler couldn't cross any border without a passport. Even with a passport, however, Finley couldn't go abroad and return to the U.K. unless he had his British visa secured. Without a visa, he can't live in the country. We could take him out of the U.K., but not bring him back in without his visa. Fair enough.

So after Finley was born, we set to work. First, we needed to secure his birth certificate. An office at the hospital provided that. Next, we had to get all our documents together and fill out forms for the U.S. passport. Then we had to schedule an appointment with the U.S. embassy in London (at the beginning of April) to show that the lil' scribbler was real and that he had all the right paperwork completed. Incidentally, the embassy and its staff were terrific—efficient, thorough, pleasant. After a few weeks wait, the embassy returned our documents and sent a brand new passport for Finley.

The current U.S. embassy in London is on Grosvenor Square. At the end of 2016 or beginning of 2017, however, the U.S. will have a fancy new $1 billion embassy on the south bank of the Thames.

At that point, we could apply for his U.K. dependent visa. Again with the forms, which we mailed to the Home Office along with his new passport, birth certificate, and other documents. And here's where we ran into some minor snafus. Once the U.K. immigration officials have your application, you get sent a form in the mail to take to the Post Office, which then photographs the kid and sends it to the Home Office. Unfortunately, our first form was defective, and the Post Office couldn't use it. Then, after waiting for a second form, we had Finley's photo taken, only to be told later that somehow the Home Office found the photo not quite right. So we waited for a third form and then had the photo taken yet again. Finally, success.

As spring ran on, we had clung to the hope we might get the passport and visa completed in time to go abroad during the June break from school. That was some wishful thinking.

We had started the process less than a week after Finley's birth in early March. By the end of June, we still hadn't gotten Finley's visa. Technically, he was to get a biometric residence permit like the rest of us. It's a small plastic card, and there's no longer a visa pasted into your passport.

With the start of July, we were getting antsy. We had scheduled a trip back the States at the end of July during the summer break. We were confident he'd get the the permit—honestly, how could he not?—but the delay from the Home Office was beginning to threaten those plans. We made a call, and the staff asked us to write a letter saying why we needed them to hurry up. So off went our letter, and shortly thereafter came the residence permit and all the documents.

Whew! 

Finally, we could travel abroad!

But what did we do in the interim as we were waiting and waiting and waiting?

If you can't fly away, drive and explore locally

While we were waiting, we tried to make the most of our free time here in southwestern England. I gave a little teaser several months ago about our weeklong trip to the Cotswolds. For visitors to England, it's likely their image of the English countryside comes from the Cotswolds. Indeed, so many television shows and movies are set within the area that location scouts are running out of new places to discover. Some villages have appeared in literally dozens scores of films and shows. Although views of lush rolling green hills, dotted by sheep and bounded by stone fences, can be found all over England, the Cotswolds provide the paragon example. Quite simply, the Cotwolds are English countryside and village life par excellence.

The lovely village of Upper Slaughter. Entry on this side of the village goes across a small ford.

The famed "Cotswold lion"—the once-dominant breed of sheep in the area, perhaps introduced by the Romans—and her lambs. Although it's now a rare breed, in medieval times the Cotswold lions covered the hills of the area and provided England with its dominant source of income for trading in Europe.

As the sign notes, "the beginning and the end" of the Cotswold Way hiking trail lies in Chipping Campden.

We also spent nine days in England's amazing southwestern corner, Cornwall. If the Cotwolds are archetypal English countryside, then Cornwall provides quintessential coastline and fishing villages. This is another exceedingly popular area for films and television shows. While it's a prime vacation spot for Brits, Cornwall is somewhat off the radar—mostly due to its remoteness from the rest of Britain—for foreign visitors.

The fishing village of Polperro in Cornwall was once one of the most notorious smuggling hubs in England.

The world's largest indoor rainforest can be found at the magnificent Eden Project, near Cornwall's border with Devon.

Jackson taking a breather on the South West Coast Path, which runs 630 miles from the coast of Somerset, across the north of Devon, around the entire coast of Cornwall, across the south of Devon, and ending in Dorset.

At a Neolithic stone site, Mên-an-Tol, legend holds that passing through the stone can prevent or cure a variety of diseases. We all wiggled through because, well, why not?

One of the world's great outdoor theaters, the Minack Theatre in Porthcurno, was built largely by one woman, Rowena Cade, and a couple of assistants over the course of several decades.

Kate and Jackson peer down into the Roman baths.

Nearer home, we've been reconnoitering Bristol and Somerset.

It's a region we visited long before we ever knew we'd be moving to Bristol. A few years ago when we were still living in Scotland, we spent several nights in Bath, a UNESCO World Heritage city renowned for its Roman baths, as well as its "Lantern of the West" abbey and magnificent Georgian architecture like the Crescent and the Circus.

A bridge within the Bishop's Palace gardens.

During that trip we also headed to Glastonbury, not for the overhyped middle-aged hipster music mudfest festival, but for its ruins, its towering Tor, and of course for the grave of King Arthur and the hiding place of the Holy Grail. Even more spectacular was visiting Wells, with its magnificent cathedral, as well as the gardens of the Bishop's Palace and the idyllic Vicar's Close.

We've revisited Wells and Bath since our move to Bristol. But there's so much more to Somerset. It truly has a wealth of offerings beyond Bath, Wells, and Glastonbury, from natural wonders to man-made marvels. What's most exciting is that we're only at the beginning of discovering them; so far we've just scratched the surface. Here are a few of our favorites from earlier this year.

Part of the Gothic Revival movement in the mid-1800s, Tyntesfield House in North Somerset is a relatively new addition to the National Trust.

If you like very hard cider, then "scrumpy" cider from Somerset is for you. "Scrumpy" is sort of a moonshine version of cider; here it's made by a farmer in his barn.

The "Well Hung Lover" in Bristol by the famous street artist, Banksy, who grew up in the city. (The artwork was later vandalized by the blue paint splotches.)

Although it's England's third-largest complex of standing stones, as well as one of the largest stone circles, the Stanton Drew prehistoric site is virtually unknown outside of Somerset.

At the Longleat Safari Park in Somerset—the world's first safari park outside of Africa—the deer come up to, and into, the car for pellet food.

Just over the border from Somerset in Wiltshire lies the Cherhill White Horse, which we visited with Nana (above), Grampa Bill, and Grammar. Although the original and highly-stylized Uffington White Horse was carved in the Bronze Age in Oxfordshire, a bunch of other white horses were carved in imitation in the 18th and 19th centuries. This one was carved in 1780.

The historically-protected Clevedon Pier stretches out into the Bristol Channel. Originally the rail lines ended in Clevedon. Passengers would then stroll out the pier and board a boat to chug across the channel to Wales.

One summer day Kate and I (and Finley) hiked the entire clifftop perimeter of Cheddar Gorge in Somerset, which is Britain's largest gorge. It rises to a height of roughly 450 feet.

If you visit your home country, does that count as traveling abroad?

No.

Heck no!

I mean, technically, I suppose we did travel out of one country. Crossed an ocean. Entered another country and stayed there for three and a half weeks. If you're being fussy about the meaning of "abroad."

But c'mon, visiting your own home country isn't really traveling abroad.

Our quick visit with our besties Erin and Mickey at the airport.

Heading back to the States for a long trip home was our last gasp use of Kate's maternity leave. When else would we have several weeks free to visit family and friends? Jeez, as I look at the calendar ahead, we might not have another stretch of time like that for years. Not that we won't return for visits, but we almost certainly won't have a chunk of time that big.

We headed first to Colorado, where Grammar and one of Kate's sisters (and her family) live. But since our connection swung through Dallas, between our flights we actually were able to squeeze in a very quick visit with old friends who now live there. Bonus!

I took a six-hour solo hike through a mountain desert to visit the Colorado National Monument.

Kate's sister Tracy and her husband John, with kids Macie and Garrick, at an evening fair in Grand Junction, Colorado.

Kate's family in Colorado has a bunch of horses on their 40+ acres.

Jackson got his first ride on a horse, with help from his cousin.

We spent a week in Colorado, then drove north to Idaho to visit Kate's other sister (and her family). They live at the base of the Tetons. Our drive helped remind us of the size disparity between the U.S.A. and the U.K. The drive took us nearly 10 hours, which would be long enough to drive the entire length of Britain. Sometimes you forget about how massive the States are.

Much of our time in Idaho was spent outdoors doing things like taking small hikes, going canoeing, flying kites, and looking at gorgeous vistas of the Tetons.

My brother-in-law David poses and takes in the view, with the Grand Teton jutting up in the background.

Kate's sister, Rachel, gives a squeeze to her nephew, Finley.

David, Rosalie, and Grammar canoeing in Targhee National Forest.

My niece, Rosalie.

Kate snapped this family selfie at the Durham Bulls game. She is a master of the group selfie.

After a week in Idaho, we flew to North Carolina to visit my family and some of our old friends and colleagues. Before we moved to Scotland, we had lived in North Carolina for 11 of the previous 12 years (one year away for me to do a judicial clerkship in Florida). It's what we still call "home," though we've been in the U.K. now for nearly three and a half years.

Since "home" is so familiar to me, I failed to take nearly any pictures during our nine days, which I regret. Not a single a snap of an old coworker and hardly any of friends. But here are a few shots:

Finley having some cuddle time with Grampa Bill.

Kate (and Finley) with her bestie Kristen (and Bella).

Our other bestie Stephen (husband of Kristen) with Nicholas and Bella, as Jackson looks on.

Jackson and Finley cooperating just long enough for a photo with Nana and Grampa Bill.

Going back home for a few weeks isn't what we mean when we say "traveling abroad." For an expat, traveling to your home country quite simply does not count as traveling abroad.

When will you finally go abroad again?

Next week!

So nice of you to ask.

We're taking advantage of the October school break (see above) and headed to the Balkans. Mostly we'll putter around Dubrovnik. Without kids we could probably see the city in two days, but we tend to roughly double our time with the wee ones along. In addition, we'll add some cross-border forays into Bosnia and Montenegro.

Crucially for Jackson, we'll be back home in time for Halloween. Phew. Some of our American traditions are sacred.

And then as an added travel bonus, I'm taking a solo trip in early November to Berlin. While I'll get some sightseeing done, the main focus of that trip is to hear the Berlin Philharmonic, conducted by my hero, Simon Rattle. This is Rattle's final season with Berlin and I wanted to squeeze in a chance to hear them together. For a music/conducting nerd, the chance to hear the world's greatest orchestra with the world's greatest conductor is a dream come true. And a dream best realized without two little kids in the audience, hence my solo trip.

So after more than a year of not traveling abroad, we're finally busting out of the U.K. borders and getting our travel mojo back. 'Tis been a long time coming.

Now, it's time to get going.

In England, school starts at age 4

We moved across the border, and our preschooler has suddenly become school-aged.

No more nursery. We've kissed goodbye our freedom from school calendars. Upon crossing the border, our wee 'un in Scotland transmogrified into an English schoolboy.

Jackson in his uniform, on his very first day of school. (I've edited the photo to remove the name of the school.)

Our new schoolboy is thrilled to have become a "big kid."

I'm a little more reticent. Expat life comes with complications, and schooling is one of them.

England starts them young

Throughout almost all the rest of the world, children don't start school until at least the age of five. In many countries kids don't start until age six, which is the norm in Europe. Some European nations start schooling at age seven.

To my mind, starting school at age four is quite young. At four, kids are just leaving toddlerhood. In the U.S., they're preschoolers, not deemed ready for the rigors of a day of school.

In England, these four year olds enter into the "reception year," only partly equivalent with kindergarten in the U.S. Fortunately, much of their time is spent playing, or in play-based learning. But they're also engaged in daily lessons, usually of phonics or maths — note the plural on maths, which is what we call it here — or in a variety of other topics.

From what I've gleaned so far, reception year is closer academically to first grade in America. What typical six year olds do in the U.S., the kids here do at age four.

Technically, the compulsory school age in England is five. Parents can elect to have their kids skip reception year and send their five year olds into Year 1. Very, very few kids do so. Some parents of "summer born children" would like to have their five year olds enter reception year, which has caused a political fight that Parliament looks likely to resolve by allowing five year olds to enter reception year at their parents' discretion. We pondered trying to do so with Jackson, but it isn't the law yet and we would've had to fight the Bristol school system for permission. We opted against that.

Instead, for better or worse, our immigrant son is following the path of the vast majority of his English peers.

By contrast, if we had stayed in Scotland, Jackson would've entered school at age five. The same holds true for Northern Ireland. Wales aligns with England, starting children at four.

Do all schools require uniforms?

"Non-marking plain black shoes" are required for the uniform.

No, but most do. In fact, the overwhelming majority of primary and secondary school students wear uniforms. On any school day you see hordes of well-dressed kids in blazers and trousers or skirts. Young children typically wear jumpers (i.e., sweaters) instead of blazers.

For the youngest ages, not all schools require uniforms. It's a decision left up to individual schools, as determined by headteachers (i.e., principals) and, perhaps, governing boards of schools. Moreover, whilst most schools in England are operated by the government, a quickly increasing number of schools are now "academies," essentially private schools run by education trusts. Attendance at academies is free of charge. From just a few dozen a few years ago, academies now number in the thousands, with no sign of abatement. The academies have more discretion over decisions like school uniforms and length of days, though they still must follow the national curriculum.

How much did Jackson's uniform cost? Roughly, a couple hundred dollars. The required uniform included: a monogrammed jumper; five plain white polo shirts (a mixture of monogrammed and generic shirts); several gray trousers, which we had professionally hemmed; gray socks; plain black shoes; a P.E. outfit of monogrammed sweatshirt, shorts, and running trousers (i.e., sweatpants); a small water bottle; and a bookbag.

Where an older kid might disdain a uniform, the little kids tend to view it as a symbol of now being "big" and able to go to school. Jackson loved his uniform.

{Ed.'s note: "Loved"? Does he no longer love it?}

No, he still does love it. But how long did we make use of this uniform? Two weeks. That's right, we got a total of two weeks use of this uniform.

I explain more in the next section.

Jackson misses his uniform. Of course, now he can wear Minion shirts, and superhero socks, and blinking shoes, so he's not too distraught.

Extremely local — and frequently oversubscribed — schools

Primary schools tend to the smaller side in England. Often, there will be only one or two classrooms per age, so one or two reception years, one or two Year 1 classes, and so on. By law, class sizes are limited to thirty students, with one teacher and a couple of teaching assistants. Primary school extends to Year 6, after which kids head to secondary school.

In urban areas, these small schools are very much neighborhood schools. They are full to capacity. Many schools operate waiting lists, the priority for which is determined not by how long you've been on the list but instead by the distance you live from the school.

Unless he has an older sibling at a school, or one of a few other exceptions, a child very likely lives just a few hundred yards (actually meters, but I find it hard to shift to using the metric system) from his school. There's no public busing of students, so unless a parent provides transportation, the child almost certainly walks to school.

Given the class size limits, which are set in stone, there's no flexibility for a new kid moving into the neighborhood during the year. If there are no open spaces, your kid cannot attend. That was our problem for Jackson, because we moved to Bristol at the end of November 2015. To have secured a spot at our local primary school — which by all parent accounts, government ratings, test scores, etc., is one of the very best schools in the city — we would have had to apply by January 2015, many months before we even knew we were moving to Bristol. Impossible to have done, obviously. 

Jackson and Kate on his first day of school.

So we were left scrambling to find a space for Jackson. Fortunately, we found an excellent academy a half mile away, a new science/technology school run by an education trust that also runs several of the best primary and secondary schools in Bristol. We were very lucky to have stumbled into a space in that school, which is so brand new it has only one reception class, with no other classes or years yet.

However, we also put ourselves on the waitlist for our local primary school. From what we were told, spots come open very rarely. It might be years before a spot materialized.

And yet, somehow, a place opened up, a mere two weeks after Jackson started at the academy. Given our proximity to the local school — we're literally a stone's throw away — Jackson was at the top of the waitlist. I know we jumped ahead of at least three kids who had been on the waitlist for the entire school year, but them's the rules.

Though it would mean further disruption for Jackson, we simply couldn't pass up a spot at his outstanding local school. Both of our next door neighbors have four year olds at the school, and they're his nearest thing to buddies here. Also, with a new baby on the way, this school is incredibly convenient.

Fortunately, Jackson seems remarkably adaptable to new situations. Over the course of twelve months, he has started at nursery in Scotland; shifted to a new building for nursery (luckily, with the same teacher and some of the same kids); moved to England; started primary school; changed schools two weeks later; and, in the next six weeks, added a baby brother. That's a lot of change for me and Kate, let alone a little kid. We've thrust him into the "new kid" role several times just in the last several months, and he doesn't bat an eye.

We're not winning any parenting awards this year, that's for sure. But he goes along without a fuss. We try to frame all the newness as adventures, and Jackson has totally bought into that framework. He's already planning our next move "once we're bored with England," which should be, in his opinion, to Germany, because on the autobahn "you can drive 100." That's his sole criteria. Meanwhile, I'm now determined to give him some stability, perhaps even seeking U.K. citizenship.

How long is the school day?

In Bristol, and I think throughout England, a school day at the primary level lasts between six and seven hours. For secondary schools, you can add another hour or two, with some in the government calling for ten hour days and reduced vacation time.

Jackson's school day lasts from 8:55 until 3:30. At noon, he has an hour and 15 minutes for lunch and outdoor playtime.

School in England is year-round, though that's not as long as you might think

A debate rages in many parts of the U.S. about whether to have a "traditional" school year of September(ish) to June(ish), with a long summer break, or a "year round" school year, with more frequent breaks during the year but a substantially shorter summer. Either way, the school year lasts about 180 days.

England, like much of the rest of the world, operates its schools in a year-round format. The school year lasts 190 days. Each year has six terms, though these terms are of unequal lengths. Summer break lasts approximately six weeks.

Almost all schools and school systems follow the same calendar. Bristol's calendar is below, though individual schools can shift a few days here and there, often for "inset days" (i.e., teacher workdays):

• Term 1           Tuesday 1 September to Wednesday 21 October 2015
• Term 2           Monday 2 November to Friday 18 December 2015
• Term 3           Monday 4 January to Friday 5 February 2016
• Term 4           Monday 15 February to Thursday 24 March 2016
                         (Easter is 25 to 28 March)
• Term 5           Monday 11 April to Friday 27 May 2016
                         (closed on 2 May 2015 for the Early May Bank Holiday)
• Term 6           Monday 6 June to Friday 22 July 2016

Having almost all English schools on the same calendar is useful for planning purposes. But it's absolute hell for travel plans and costs during school break times. Everybody goes on holiday at the same time, which causes plane fares and accommodation costs to skyrocket. Available bookings become frighteningly scarce. The problem is so pronounced that the government is toying with the idea of allowing schools to set their own calendars, just to avoid the holiday crush.

Can you take your kid out of school during term time? Nope. Well, you can, but only if you have the headteacher's permission. Otherwise, you can be fined £60 per day of absence. If you are deemed too egregious, they can take you to court and even put you in jail. Putting on my attorney hat, that's fairly unlikely, but it's a power the schools increasingly are seeking to enforce.

We're new to a year-round format. I'm withholding judgment. I like having longer breaks during the school year, but allowing only six weeks for summer seems achingly short.

Regrettably, as an expat who's living overseas in part because of the opportunities to travel, I'm now tethered to the school calendar. Tethered for — and this part pains me — the next couple of decades. Noooooooo!!!!!

With our move to England, we suddenly have a school-age child. And the joys and travails which come along.

Off to school, still in uniform.