Last year, I wrote a piece about an ongoing dilemma I find myself in: whether to stay in London in a flat we’ve fallen out of love with (one that is mercifully affordable in a city of excruciating rent prices) or leave in search of a larger, more affordable space and a quieter, less frantic life. After it was published, I was fascinated to see how divided the comments were when it was shared on both my own and House & Garden’s Instagram accounts. I had previously heard nothing but rave reviews of life outside London. So much space, so much cheaper, so quiet, so friendly, so safe, so much greenery. If leaving London was a play, it would get five-star rave reviews. Or so I thought.
The one-sided opinion I anticipated wasn’t reflected in the advice and experiences shared by others and that came as a surprise. Yes, many said they left and they’re so much happier – they only wish they’d done it sooner, but a surprising number of people advised me not to go. Some shared their own tales of regret or determination to never leave in the first place.
Aside from making the decision even harder and more complicated, it brought things into focus that I hadn’t fully considered the reality of. People missed the excitement, the culture, the easy transport links, having ‘their tribe’ nearby, the many excellent restaurants and the diversity. Someone commented that their kid complained there was nowhere to walk to in the countryside, it made me smile as I could understand that. When I’ve taken rural weekend breaks before, I need a clearly mapped walking route to follow otherwise I’m not really sure where to go and as I don’t drink, having a pub as the end goal isn’t a huge appeal. In London, I just walk and walk and see where I end up, often passing shops or cafes I’d never noticed before, or ending up in parks where I can take five without wondering whether I’m trespassing on private land. That’s not to say that we have decided to stay, we haven’t decided anything yet, I just get it when people make statements like that.
To give some balance to the many articles about London leavers who are thrilled with their decision, I asked a few people who left comments whether they’d be happy to share their own story of life in London, why they left and why they regretted the move. Here’s what they had to say…
“After being absent for a decade. I came home to London to lick my wounds and rebuild my life after my previous marriage ended. I’d been persuaded that London was not suited to raising a family, but despite my best efforts, I failed to thrive in Suffolk. I felt unrooted and like a large, crucial part of myself was left behind in London. During the week I had plenty to do with the other new mums I met there but at weekends I felt isolated. In a rural community, I also felt marooned in terms of finding friends with similar interests, so that was difficult. People used to trash-talk London and say how I must be so pleased I’d moved away but that was never how I felt. I had a National Trust membership and never used it in Suffolk – I use it more in London. Although leaving the city didn’t cause the break-up of my marriage, it was certainly a contributing factor.
What many people who haven’t grown up in London don’t understand is London isn’t just one place. There is no ‘city centre’ destination on the Sat Nav. London is a series of intricate villages bound up and connected with each other. Londoners very rarely know their neighbours, but we are fierce and protective of our own. It can be a jewel box for those with children as there’s always something going on, often for free. Growing up in London I understand how it works – it’s in my DNA. As I have remarked many times, “You can take the girl out of London but you can’t take London out of the girl”.
I have now been back for a decade and it’s been the happiest of my life. My husband is originally from Leicester but he gets and loves London as much as I do. We married at the Chelsea Registry Office and have an active social life based largely around careers as an art dealer and solicitor. We’re both curious and interested, so we go out a lot and use the city fully. Jumping on tubes to go to black tie events in the City, or have picnics at Kew Gardens on hot days. We book last-minute theatre and concert deals, visit myriad galleries and museums and make the most of pop-up restaurants. Sometimes we just walk and talk with a coffee, counting our steps in one of the city’s many green spaces. We’re an active part of our local neighbourhood and ensure that we use the many artisan businesses around us so that they continue to thrive and survive, just as they kept us going during Lockdown and beyond. If you can survive London, you’ll survive life!” - Lucy
“We moved from our rented flat in London to a small market town in Kent in 2020, shortly before the pandemic hit. It’s a really lovely, pretty town, near the coast and with a fair amount going on. We visited at weekends for several months before buying and really liked it – it seemed very much a dreamy country lifestyle. Also, it meant we could afford a house with a garden. In lots of ways, it is exactly what we’d thought it would be. We can go to the beach in the summer and we have lovely countryside around us for walks at the weekend. I don’t hate it here but over three years later, I still miss living in London so much. Far beyond the usual ‘adjustment period’ friends had told me to expect.
It’s a combination of things. In the winter there’s very little to do (there are only so many country walks across muddy fields you can tolerate), nothing is open on Sundays, Mondays or even Tuesdays, plus most people our age (early thirties) have children, and socialise through them.
I miss the business of London and I really miss the variety – visiting exhibitions, going to different parts of the city, the restaurants, the people-watching. I daydream about moving back but it’s tricky – I feel it’s very hard to return once you’ve left because we’ve got used to the extra space we can afford here. I grew up in the country and so I thought I had an understanding of what it would be like and how I would feel, but actually, it took leaving the city to realise that living in a small town possibly isn’t for me.” - Georgina
“The decision to leave London is a really difficult one. The pandemic had a big part to play in the London exodus, but for me, my story pre-dates that. I left the city after living there for over 20 years as I felt like I was ready to take the next step in my life. I wanted to get on the property ladder by myself without help and that meant moving to the Essex coast seven years ago and commuting in. I quickly found I’d gone from living in a cultural hub with vibrant energy and a broad demographic to a place with a small-town mentality which, to me, felt closed-minded. I’d taken for granted having amazing food, music, art and culture on my doorstep, and friends only a bus or tube ride away. And whilst the outlook has slowly improved, it's taken a really long time to adjust to it. I have now come to accept that whilst I’m not in London, life is about compromise and it has given me a newfound appreciation of the city. Plus, I’m grateful that I have nature on my doorstep and I’m only ever a train ride away.” - Julia
“My partner and I left London three years ago and moved to a town in the Midlands close to where I grew up. We made the move less because we wanted to and more because it made the most sense logistically and practically. We were being priced further and further out of London (and moving almost every year to try to keep costs manageable) and we were getting so worn down by the classic rental issues of leaking showers, draughty windows and apathetic landlords. We wanted the security of owning our home and were acutely aware that we couldn’t make that happen in London, but we still needed to be commutable for (mainly my partner’s) work.
We found a project house in a mid-size town in Northamptonshire, and we live less than a five-minute walk from a mainline train station that gets us into St Pancras in 50 minutes. Time-wise it’s very doable but I think a major and often ignored issue with leaving London and commuting is the compounding problem of the state of the UK rail system. For my partner, an annual season ticket (which is essential cost-wise if you’re commuting more than twice a week) is currently £8,000 and increasing every year. If we both needed or wanted to work in London, we’d be spending more on trains than we do on our mortgage.
I don’t think it’s a case of the expected experience not matching the reality because the decision to move was one rooted in logistics, and our hand was forced by the London rental market and the UK property market. We never had thoughts of ‘we can’t wait to leave London’ but we were very excited to own our own home and remove a lot of the stresses that came with renting. I think the issue for me is that I hadn’t realised just how much we’d be giving up.
I don’t think I appreciated how everything in our lives – how we socialise, how we work, how we eat out, how we do anything cultural, would be entirely different in a smaller town. I said to my partner recently ‘I feel like our lives stopped when we left London’, and I think by that I meant that the carefree/spontaneous element stopped. We could go out to eat with friends on the other side of London and know that we could bus/tube/Uber home whenever we wanted, or we could do something every weekend for six months without visiting the same place twice. My partner struggles with it less because he likes the more rural location and the slower pace of life, but I don’t think I realised how much I thrived on city life until we left. I didn’t think I’d ever say it but sometimes (and increasingly, a lot of the time) I find myself thinking that I’d happily trade our house for a poky flat with a miserable landlord and an unidentifiable musty smell just to move back. I miss everything about London.” - Georgina
“I left Cork in 2009 to live with my grandmother and great-aunt in Ladbroke Grove. It wasn't easy to settle at first. I’d visited London many times before but it was a daunting place to live in. I quickly realised that, although people surround you, it can be a very lonely city. My first jobs were temp roles and I worked in some really interesting places, meeting great people along the way. I’d tell them that I was renting a place just off the Portobello Market with two other Irish girls. This wasn't a lie, I just left out the bit about the 'Irish girls' being women in their late eighties 'renting' a Housing Trust flat!
I eventually moved to Ealing and this was a fun time – my partner and I built a circle of pals and enjoyed all London had to offer. I had a job I loved in Hatton Garden and because of the incredible public transport system, I could go for dinner or drinks after work without ever worrying about how I’d get home. Weekends were spent at markets or walking down South Bank in a permanently hungover state!
After I fell pregnant, we decided we wanted a little more space for our money, which took us to Bushey near Watford. It was a lovely area to live in; middle-class and very family-friendly. Twins followed a couple of years later and although we stayed in Bushey for a year after they were born, I knew then we had to move home to Cork. Despite both earning very decent salaries, we couldn't afford rent and childcare for three kids, and we had no family around to support us. I wouldn't say we gave up on London; it was more that London gave up on us.
I realise the privilege I had of deciding to go home. Many immigrants before me, like my grandparents, left to find jobs knowing they would never be able to return. I went to London for more opportunities and could leave when it no longer made sense to stay. I was, however, so homesick for London. I was frustrated by Cork. I missed the style, the pace, the fun, the food, the markets. I regretted my sons not growing up in a multifaceted city where everything goes and there’s exposure to so much. I resented the poor job opportunities in marketing and communications. I just wanted to go back and I spent the next two years deeply regretting our decision to leave.
I didn’t get to visit because of the pandemic but I finally returned last year for a weekend, expecting to feel the longing in the pit of my stomach – mourning the career and fun I once had there. That weekend was so much fun and it lived up to all the expectations but surprisingly when I got home, I felt some relief. It was fabulous but exhausting. Life in London is a grind and it takes a lot out of you, physically and mentally. I realised I’d lost the grit required to live there and I finally accepted that leaving London was the right thing for us.
My advice to others would be that if you have a gnawing feeling that London is wearing you down and you have the opportunity to leave, then perhaps you should, but prepare to miss it when you go. There’s nowhere in the world quite like it.” - Elaine
