Are we Yanks or Brits? It all depends on who is doing the asking... We quickly learnt why America is referred to as a "melting pot." We met many residents originally from other countries, with many different accents, all with their own version of English. Discovering whether we were South African, English, Australian or New Zealanders intrigued everyone. They were very pro-British and we were very welcome. We were graciously lent vehicles to chauffeur ourselves - a huge Cadillac we named "the boat" and an older Mustang that objected to San Francisco's steep hills. We'd driven in France so driving on the "wrong side" wasn't too strange. Drivers were very polite - back then. We loved the way homes merged into their gardens with wide-open glass doors, complete with bug screens, affording an extended lifestyle we enjoyed. Stable weather was a main factor, very suitable for a child who suffered bronchitis during British winters. Visiting a supermarket was a culture shock, with minor spelling differences or names of products but such a vast choice of fresh fruit and vegetables, beautifully displayed. Any mess on the floor was immediately cleaned up. Check-out was amazing: we placed items on the conveyor, the cashier ran them through the till, a staff member quickly and skilfully placed them in bags and offered to carry them out to our car! We habitually confused the system by instinctively trying to pack our own items. All this service was accomplished with a big smile and "have a nice day." My biggest culture shock was the friendly willingness of women to speak to each other in "the restroom," aka "the bathroom," previously only known to us as the toilet or the loo. It would be: "I love your dress, honey, where did you buy it?"; or "Are you on vacation?"; or "Can I help you with that?" - as I struggled to comprehend which of many systems this "WC" used for dispensing soap and water. There is no one way applicable to all. Turning, pressing, lifting or even a pedal produced a flow of water from the "faucet." Use of the words "hand basin" or "sink" produced some puzzled looks: "Oh, you mean the vanity." Such a departure from the polite silence of my countrywomen in the same situation... A later visit included our children so we could be sure that living in California would appeal to them, too. With our parents" blessing we applied for immigration. My father, a former Desert Rat, pointed out that he'd fought six long years to retain Britain's sovereignty, but he could see the advantages of our daughter recovering her health, and the future opportunities for our children. His one reservation? I was with the Americans during the war, they have one very bad habit. They pepper their speech with a disgusting 'toilet" word but they are a good people. Their army shared their hot showers with us in the British Army. He and Mom (not Mum) shared four-week Christmases with us for seven years, visiting much of California and loving every minute. We arrived August 1981, officially referred to as "legal aliens" by authority and "green-card holders" by commerce. California law requires schooling until the age of 18 so our school-leaver daughter completed two more years. She had passed GCE in English in Britain but failed English at an American high school three times! The principal finally offered the solution. In earlier classes she would have learnt an introductory couple of sentences in a set format, referred to as "the paragraph." Application of this format produced the necessary pass. Fast forward 30 years - we have seen unbelievable changes. We hold dual citizenship and are referred to as Brits by our fellow American citizens and Yanks by our fellow British citizens. Hearing mostly English and American English, we forget that we don't have American accents. We're surprised when someone says "I like your accent." The usual response is, "I like yours, too" and they laugh in recognition of the fact that they, too, are "speaking English." Thirty years operating a small business in California has been a roller-coaster ride that would fill a book. Never a dull moment. On the day we arrived, the customs officer who greeted us said: "That's a lot of money you're carrying - be very careful, there's hundreds of get-rich-quick schemes here that you could easily fall prey to." We appreciated his honesty but we have survived the ride - and enjoyed it. This article was originally published in The Telegraph Weekly World Edition Do you have an expat tale to share? Email submissions of no more than 1,000 words to weeklyt@telegraph.co.uk