Kerry Hudson: Being European again is well worth the tangle of red tape

I am experiencing déjà vu. As we packed up our boxes and wrote on the side with black markers: Kitchen stuff, Books, PANTS. As we coerce our furious black cat to take her sedating tablets and, as if six years hadn’t passed, try not to jostle her as we run through the labyrinthine Amsterdam airport to make a short connecting flight with KLM. As we take a taxi through our new city’s dark streets, craning our necks to see beautifully brutalist apartment blocks from the 60’s and 70s, lit up with Christmas fairy lights.

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