We moved to our village 60 kms from Skellefteå, because we wanted rural beauty and to be close to water. We'd both lived in, or close to, London all our lives, and we wanted a change. And, being childless, we only had to think of ourselves.

Then, three months after we moved to Sweden, Donna became pregnant with twins. We'd almost given up on having children, so this was a pleasant shock. 

Having twins in a remote part of a foreign country was hard, especially for Donna - she had no family around to support her.

We survived, and then, as the babies turned into toddlers and then children, we came to celebrate our choice of home. The kids had the whole village as their playground, friendly neighbours, and a lake in which they could paddle and swim in the summer. 

For a few years it was idyllic.

However, a couple of years after starting school, our girls complained that the classes were noisy, making it hard to learn. Bullying was also rife. They put up with it for a year, but we knew we had to act.

When I started at Norran as the English editor, we moved the girls to the Internationella Engelska Skolan in town.

The IES is good. The girls are learning, they’re totally bilingual, and there are no bullies who will pee on them or pierce their ears with a staple gun (both these things allegedly happened to a boy at their previous school).

But the days are so long. They’re up at 6.15 and often don’t get home until around 18.30. They have dinner and then go to bed. Such long days make them cranky.

The most outspoken girl is desperate for us to move closer to Skellefteå, so that her days aren’t so long, and so she can be a bike ride from her new school friends. Our rural home is no longer so idyllic for her. It’s “boring”.

We understand her angst, but we can’t afford to move to the city. With the economy as it is, we can barely afford to live in the countryside.

Yet, there are upsides to this difficult period of family life. 

The long car journeys mean I get to spend time talking to my girls, especially the “vocal” one. She finds it difficult to talk about her feelings (a bit like her dad), but on these journeys, while her sister is cocooned in music on her headphones, I gently prise her open and uncover her dreams, fears and anxieties. 

The fading charm of rural life can't quite dim the light of connection. As long as these car rides bring us closer, the journey is worth it.