“Heidi Sand-Hart’s “Home Keeps Moving” authenticates the TCK experience. Her personal stories demonstrate the tangible reality of the TCK theories we have been reading and hearing about for years.” – Tina L Quick, author of The Global Nomad's Guide to University Transition

Tuesday, 14 November 2017

For Smokey...

It's been one year today since we blew up our London lives and decided to give everything up (including the best cat ever😿) to travel and experience the world again. I’ve given up countless houses and cats over the years but these were finally my very own. There has been severe heartache, regret, soul-searching and sleepless nights. I didn’t know how heart breaking giving up my own home (finally and against our will) would be. For a TCK especially, it was devastating. Some days I’m still reeling from that...overcome by a deep sadness, and that’s okay. It’s more that we didn’t get to enjoy the finished article before putting it on the market that was, and still is, deeply painful. Our blood, sweat, tears and laughter are all over that flat. It was our home.

And yet, the world is my second home and I will always feel a sense of belonging to remote corners of this great planet. Which is where we find ourselves today. The Gili islands of Indonesia...I was first here 15 years ago with Ben and parts of my spirit are scattered all over this beautiful nation, full of smiling people. 

We worked bloody hard to save up for this trip, but as every TCK knows, you’re always sacrificing something. In many ways we are rich; we have traversed this planet to the point of exhaustion this past year. 20 countries, 42 flights, 67 beds. We have seen great things and felt flashes of true happiness. We have felt alive and wanted more of this free, bohemian lifestyle. But today of all days, it’s important to take stock of what we left behind. And shed a tear. For Smokey...

Sunday, 9 July 2017

Goodbye Lorena

Last week I was devastated to learn of the passing of an incredibly beautiful, unique and precious soul and dear friend. She helped me invaluably with "Home Keeps Moving" and was one in a million. She was a free spirit. May you rest in peace Lorena. You are, and will forever be missed 

Her forward for my book:

Foreword by Lorena Smith 
"I grew up much like Heidi, hovering between several cultures, travelling often, struggling with faith and questions of identity, home, and belong- ing. My mother is Swedish, my Dad Sri Lankan, and my schooling was all over the place, partly at Hebron School in India, partly in Sweden, partly in the US. To complicate matters more, I married a TCK from Ecuador/El Salvador, with roots in California. We’ve lived everywhere from Romania to the UK to Connecticut. 

As our world grows smaller and smaller, the tribe that is TCK’s and ATCK’s grow larger and larger. And yet the questions still remain for most of us: Where do we belong? How do we fit in? In a world where people put cultural identity and national citizenship in the premier place of personal identity, where are we? 

As I read Heidi’s book, I was so struck by the way in which I identified and recognized myself in her descriptions and analysis of TCK’s. Her story, in some measure, is the story of every TCK, whether missionary kid, or army brat, or diplomat kid, or anyone else. 

If you are a TCK, you will recognize yourself and, as I did, breathe a sigh of relief that your experiences and feelings are, after all, universal. If you are a par- ent, please read this book so you can know what we are and will be going through. And if you are anyone else, those who love us, our friends or coworkers, please read it, because it expresses things we are often hard pressed to put into words. 

On the whole, the lives we live, the places we go, and the things we see, teach us that people are peo- ple everywhere. As you read this book, one of my dearest hopes is not only that you will understand this tribe we call TCK’s but that you will also decide to experience what we have—new cultures, new homes, and new people and discover our world. 
We will probably run into you somewhere along the way, in Lebanon, Latvia, or London. Come say hello."  💔 


 Painting: "The Dreamer" by Alain J. PicardH


Monday, 22 August 2016


I'm doing a house clear-out and have copies of Home Keeps Moving with *slight* minimal imperfections but would hate to throw them away. If anyone wants a free signed copy and is happy to pay postage, please email me at: homekeepsmoving@gmail.com 

Wednesday, 20 April 2016

Lost thoughts....

This was written some FIVE years ago and I still find myself in London....and the sentiments have amplified in that time. More on that later....

For quite some time now, I have had a strongly negative reaction to returning "home" at rhe end of a day. I always jokeingly call it my prison but there is quite some truth to that. I am locked behind its bars from morning to late afternoon without anything to do, anything to live for. I feel helplessly trapped with no vision or drive. They call it "writers block"...well, I have been suffering from that for close to 19 months now. Ever since I finished my first book, I have been turned off writing like never before. The thing I keep coming back to is that I am completely and absolutely UNINSPIRED in my every day life so how can I hope to breath life to a new work? If one isn't happy and content with their surroundings, then how can art blossom?

That is the bottom line. I am not happy. I have dreams and goals for my life but don't seem any nearer to attaining them. Every year is but  mere reminder of the fact that I am no closer in reaching them.

My heart aches for the unloved, the neglected, the unwanted yet here I sit in my comfortable Western "castle" wasting day after day. I need to go. I need to do something.

I used to resent this restlessness that came as a result of my upbringing but now I have come to love and cherish it. For it is the marker that tells me when I am not fulfilling the goals I should and it continues to awake me from the Western slumber that doesn't even suit me. It does not let me rest. It does not let me lie.

Wednesday, 7 January 2015

Strange, small world

Having remained quite disconnected from the internet in connection to Home Keeps Moving recently, it was quite startling to come across this today. Shame they got some of the details wrong but hey...the internet is a weird and wonderful place! Enjoy and Happy New Year! ;)

More from me soon, I promise...

Wednesday, 20 November 2013

It's okay to like where you live...

I wrote a guest blog post for a local website on why I love where we live in London. Check it out:

Falling In Love With Tooting: A Guest Blog by Heidi Sand-Hart.

I first fell in love with Tooting whilst sitting in Sarashwathy Bavans, enjoying a masala dosa that transported me back to my childhood.

I grew up in South India for five years, surrounded by Tamilians – both Sri Lankan and Indian. The memories conjured up over that dosa made me feel at home and homesick at the same time. Back then my husband and I lived in “white, safe” Southfields and only ventured down Garratt Lane when I needed an “India fix”. More than once we breathed a sigh of relief at leaving the madness of the Broadway which we viewed as quite chaotic at the time.
Merely two years later we were excited Tooting homeowners, primarily due to how much more bang we got for our buck in Toots!

Continue reading here !!

Friday, 4 October 2013

Citizenship troubles...

The BBC has run a few articles this week about people giving up their nationalities for tax (and other) reasons. It reminds me of how I nearly lost my Norwegian citizenship two years ago...

My relationship with Norway has always had its complexities but because of my father, I was given Norwegian citizenship at birth. I travelled the globe on my Norwegian passport despite only living there for a year and a half (when I was 16).

It was while living in Canada (age 20) that I first realised it wasn't so simple. I was trying to renew my passport at the Norwegian consulate but they would only give me a year's extension. I learnt that for Norwegians born abroad (like me), there was an application process that needed to be done before turning 21 to keep your citizenship.

The summer before I turned 21, I visited my parents (who were living in Norway at the time) and slightly nervously went to the passport office. No questions were asked and they issued me a new 10 year passport immediately, a very good thing since otherwise I would have been stateless!

I completely forgot about the episode but decided to apply for dual citizenship while living in London a few years later. Mostly, I thought it would be cool (and useful) to hold two passports and I'd always felt more British than Norwegian. I got my UK passport without a hitch and life continued.

In 2011, however, my Norwegian passport was up for renewal again. Early one morning, I went to the Norwegian consulate in Knightsbridge thinking it would be plain sailing. How wrong was I?! I suppose it didn't help that I chose to speak English (a trait I've possessed since childhood, much to the dismay of my Norwegian relatives!) but the women were rude and hostile and continued to speak to me in Norwegian. I had my photo taken, finger print scanned, handed over the money and went on my merry way.

It was only when I returned to pick up my new passport that I realised those early complications of my transient upbringing were back. The lady told me that they were trying to contact the head of police in Stavanger (where my last passport was issued) to confirm whether I had applied for the right to keep my Norwegian citizenship. This all was news to me! Apparently I was supposed to have applied for the right to remain Norwegian before I turned 19 - during which, I was living in North America and my parents in India. 

She asked if I had applied and I told her I think my dad did it for me but I couldn't remember. She asked me for the paperwork to prove it which I said I couldn't provide. She told me to get it from my parents, at which point I gave her a little breakdown of the complications of locating a piece of paper while most of your possessions are in boxes scattered around the world! She told me that unless the proof could be found, I would lose my Norwegian citizenship. I could not believe it. That a nation could take away your nationality! That you had to apply to keep your citizenship and that they PUNISHED people for being raised abroad! I was gobsmacked. I always had my British passport to fall back on but I was quite hurt with the way I was treated by my fathers homeland. And their inability and lack of desire to understand a TCK/global upbringing. It was as though I'd betrayed Norway by growing up somewhere else - a decision of course, that was out of my hands.

Luckily for me, the chief of police in Stavanger came through and for some reason confirmed that I was living in Norway when I turned 19 (not entirely true but I did spend my birthday there!) and all was well. So my Norwegian citizen status remains intact and I have my shiny new passport...although for some strange reason, I haven't used it since...

Note: This drama occurred a few months before the Oslo terror attacks, which helped soften my heart to Norway considerably. You can read that entry here (it was actually published by The Telegraph).