It’s a question that I find quite difficult to answer. It always makes me sigh; inwardly, if not outwardly. Nowhere, is an answer I sometimes give: it’s a short version, but demands an explanation.

I don’t really ‘come’ from anywhere.

My father was a soldier in the British Army. I was born in Germany, as were my siblings. Apart from a couple of short stints in England, a year in Omagh, Northern Ireland, and two years near Kowloon, Hong Kong, I spent most of my formative years in various locations in Germany.

It was a peripatetic life, the only constant being trips back to visit my grandmothers in the UK, both of whom lived near Derby in the Midlands. At the time, it was exciting regularly packing up our belongings in big army crates and stencilling the details of our next destination on the outside. Even more exciting was the unpacking at the other end, waiting for the crate with our favourite toys to be opened.

When my father retired from the army, we settled in Essex, for no other reason than that is where he got a job. I went to a local secondary school and then went off to university in Leeds, followed by law school in Chester. Then it was London until I moved to Hampshire twelve years ago. I don’t intend to stay here forever.

So, if I don’t come from anywhere, where do I belong? I can’t think of any geographical location to which I feel any sense of belonging. Maybe the answer lies in where I would like to be buried, but I still can’t think of anywhere. The ashes of both of my parents are buried at the church where they were married, in the village where my mother grew up, where most of her relatives are buried. If I die now I’m likely to end up in Basingstoke Cemetry at the intersection between the A303 and the M3 – just think of the noise!

I think the only sense of belonging I have is to my family.

My husband, on the other hand, is very clear as to where he comes from: Liverpool. He’s not lived there since his early twenties, but that matters not a jot. Personally, I don’t think I have come across a geographical location that instils in the people who come from it such a strong sense of place, belonging and identity. And it’s not just about the Beatles and football, although my husband would quote Shankly and say that Liverpool has the two best football teams in the world: Liverpool FC and Liverpool FC Reserves. It is something more than that, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

I’m in two minds whether I’m incredibly envious of my husband, or whether I like not belonging anywhere – there’s a feeling that you could leave everything at the drop of a hat and move on. There is also something quite appealing about the idea of starting afresh, and leaving behind old baggage – a metamorphosis.

This train of thought was triggered by going through old family photos. Before he died, my father had started reorganising the family albums. Half of the photos are in brown envelopes. I’m attempting to bring some order to them, and to digitize them. It’s a long, slow process, picking through a family’s history; my history.