Leaving London: It’s complicated

All roads have led to the exit. Photo by Alexandre Debiève on Unsplash

April 2021. After 8.5 years in London, I’ve waved goodbye to the capital to ride out the gnawing nesting instincts of my third pregnancy trimester in the small Norfolk village where I grew up, with loose plans to get on the property ladder close-by, albeit in an area which is a bit more urban, but affordable. At 36 years of age, I’d finally developed some ‘grown-up’ aspirations.

But leaving the capital after almost a decade is not without emotional baggage. This has been an itch that I’ve wanted to scratch before the pandemic took hold, before thousands of others left the capital when the fairground lights switched off in March 2020.

The reality is that leaving London is just like leaving a lover you don’t really want to leave, but know will be good for you in the long run.

You remember all the good times. You gloss over the bad times. I tell myself that in time, the rose-tinted glasses will eventually come off and (hopefully?) I’ll look back and remember living in various parts of South and East London as a whole, rounded experience — good and bad. The city that I fought for a place in and made me who I am.

But for now, less than two weeks away from my beloved capital and I’m feeling somewhat bereft. FOMO isn’t just a ridiculous acronym, it’s real and it’s suffocating, a bit like a panic attack that makes you want to run and retreat back to what you know will soothe you, regardless of whether it’s good for you or not. The dreaded edge-of-the-comfort-zone experience. I miss the city already, even though I can’t drink booze and can only waddle around for 10 minutes at a time in my late pregnancy state.

It’s not you, it’s me…

I arrived in London in September 2012 as a fresh-faced 28-year-old, somewhat intimidated by the Big Smoke, but determined to find my way in the city I’d lusted over at weekends and from afar. The city rewarded me in ways I could never have imagined. Incredible job and international travel opportunities, meeting amazing friends and my now-husband. Even after two years of living in the capital, the honeymoon vibe was still very much alive — smiling to myself whilst sat on the tube and marvelling at the cultural and culinary riches of the city.

For my own sanity, I need to unpick my thoughts and put everything down on digital paper. Here are the things I’m already missing about London:

• The buzz. If you’ve ever lived in London, you’ll know what I mean. It’s the constant hum of community spirit. Singing with happy revellers outside Brixton tube station at 3am. Seeing a well-known comedian regularly walking his sausage dogs around Wandsworth Common. Being chatted up whilst dressed as a vampire on the Camden tube escalators during Halloween (obviously ages ago). Being surrounded by people who are passionate about what they do and becoming the best or worst versions of themselves, unapologetically so. The drive people have is contagious. The creative energy is palpable. The beautiful people make London what it is.
• The food (and drink). The past year in lockdown has served to wean me off dining out every other evening, and at last, my bank balance doesn’t show £30-£40 coming out every few days. I read that London feeds you and feeds you, but you get used to feeling full and then you never feel satiated. That’s a lie, after a Korean feast and bubble tea I always feel extremely happy, but the afterglow usually lasts for as long as it takes to whack a snap of it on Instagram until the next meal.
• The diversity. Being a second-generation Moroccan, arriving in London from a predominantly white county, I have never felt so at home. I enjoy being a small fish in a large pond, surrounded by millions of other different species of fish. I have learnt so much from the people around me, and I never stop learning.
• The cultural possibilities. When I worked in Soho for a couple of years, it was great to see the shining lights of the West End with the latest productions on show (God save our theatre companies). To see celebs filming outside your office. Or, just see them mooching around drinking coffee, or huffing and puffing their way to their next meeting, like normal, regular people. The gigs, the pop-ups, the galleries… and so much more…

But I’ll be realistic, there are many valid reasons why I’ve chosen to leave with my London-born partner to start anew. You can expect the predictable reasons, but for therapeutic reasons and for me to refer back to later, here they are:

• Being closer to family. Starting a family of your own puts being close to your own family, many of whom you have been separated from during the pandemic, in perspective. I want our child to know their grandparents. To spend days at the beach with them. To totter around their allotment and understand how nature works. Also, bringing me to my next point…
• Cheaper childcare. Family have offered to help on this front when I return to work, and I’m so grateful. Childcare in London can easily be the same as a salary. A colleague of mine tells me that childcare sets her and her partner back around £1,500 a month. A high-flying finance friend of mine waited until her child was in school before having another because of childcare costs. Another acquaintance told me she lost out on money so she could work and put her child in childcare. It’s crazy.
• Having an accessible support network. London is tiring to navigate. Several of my close friends and partners live close-by now. I can jump in my car and see them within 10–20 minutes. In the lonely lockdown months, I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve been able to spend quality time with on a regular basis — even when the restrictions were relaxed. Getting anywhere in London can take 45 minutes to an hour, and the tubes and buses just made me anxious whilst being pregnant, not to mention exhausted.
• House prices. Note I say ‘house’, but flat prices with their escalating ground rents didn’t captivate me either (after heaps of research and toying with the idea), even with the Help to Buy and Shared Ownership options, although I know they’ve worked out so well for some folk. After years of house sharing and itty-bitty living space, I was after something else. It would be impossible to afford a 3-bedroom house with a driveway and a garden in London on two public sector salaries. The feeling of treading water through renting year after year and not being able to save much at the end of the month led me to disclose my unhappiness about this to a therapist several years down the line, and I realised it was something that fundamentally bothered me and that I needed to do something about.
• Cleaner air and less crime. Now I feel the need to defend London here. London’s air has cleaned up a great deal in previous years. And I’ve never experienced being mugged or threatened in London at all. But the threat of something happening always lurks in the background, and you can’t shake it off. I’ve been in some hairy situations that have made my heart race and fear for my life, and if I were to be travelling around with a baby, I don’t think I would have coped very well. But the experiences do make you somewhat more resilient and keen-eyed.

When I compare these lists I can see that the reasons I’ve wanted to leave London are practical, sensible reasons. The reasons I didn’t want to leave (and still don’t) are hedonistic but personally deeply fulfilling and because they form part of my identity and are attached to the things I love. Sometimes I question whether the practical reasons are my motivations or what society tells us to strive for. Home-ownership. A family. Stability. But if I’m honest, I know that we need to give this a try. I’m not Peter Pan. I’m not getting any younger.

So would we ever move back? Let’s see. I’m eternally grateful to have a job where I can work from home, and after maternity leave, I hope that I can commute to the office whenever I need to, so all is not lost. The odd roll in the hay will inevitably happen in the not-too-distant future.

Ultimately, London will always be there — and we will definitely be back for rides on the fairground when we can. And heck, the non-committal Peter Pan in me justifies the move with the idea that we can just return if we really hate life back at my home turf. But hopefully, that won’t be the case. I’ll be sure to update my relationship status again in the coming months, after the next nappy-filled chapter begins — watch this space.