Why haven't we moved out of London yet?

Years of threats to leave and a magazine article later, we're still here, drinking hard water and £4 coffees

London’s famous Pearly Kings and Queens, photo from 1976

I did an Ask Me Anything on Instagram a few weeks ago and one question came up over and over again: Have we decided whether to move out of London? I get it a lot IRL too and it always makes me wince slightly.

If you only found me recently and don’t know the backstory, threatening to leave London and spending hours a week searching Rightmove (but not actually moving) is one of my passions, so I thought it deserved an update of its own.

Some context…

I’ve been writing for House & Garden since 2021, usually about things like the virtues of lino flooring or how to make a radiator look good. Anyway, last summer I shuffled onto their homepage with a one-off personal essay about the importance of home and whether London still felt like it’s the right place for us. I think the complexity of the decision resonated with a lot of people, because the choice (or lack of choice) is about so much more than a yearning for fresh air.

You can read the story here if the mood strikes. No pressure but I’d recommend it – this post will make much more sense if you already know the ins and outs.

The Barbican Estate, where I’ve rented for the past 10 years

Before it was published, I’d already banged on about the do-we-don’t-we decision for about three years (love a public rumination), so if I wasn’t already the girl who cried ‘I’m moving!’, then I certainly was after the House & Garden essay came out. I think at this point, even if we told our landlords we were leaving, they wouldn’t believe us.

Nine months have passed since I wrote about our potential move and if you follow me on Instagram, it’s probably four years since I first floated the idea of leaving. People regularly ask me for updates in the same way that you might check-in on a friend’s house renovation or wedding plans. Why are we still in London? Did we find anything yet? Did we decide to stay?

After mentally packing my suitcase in the H&G article, it feels embarrassing now to admit we’re still here in our tiny flat, with its hilarious shortage of plug sockets (I assume people were still writing with quills and candlelight when the estate was built in the ‘70s) and a rare quality of light that resembles an episode of True Detective: Night Country.

Our little living/dining room. Reliably dark even on the sunniest day

The Barbican Estate is a curious kind of concrete beauty – some people would give their right arm to live here and others would give a limb to never have to. It’s not a bad place to be – far from it – but our current flat has never felt quite right for us. We lived in another, near-identical Barbican flat before this one and we would give anything to swap. It was in a quieter, lighter block with better insulation, double glazing, a greener view from the window and a living room that was five feet wider, meaning it had space for an extra window. Small things but they made a difference. Our living room didn’t feel like a narrow hallway, I could see the sky, it was always light and the birds in the garden below us sang all day.

I don’t think I’ve ever shown this before but this is the floorplan of the flat we rent now. An 11ft wide living room, one bedroom and a tiny, windowless kitchen and bathroom. I work from home and spend all day here.

H&G has millions of readers (not dissimilar to my Substack then…) and very quickly after my article was shared on their Instagram account, there were hundreds of comments and DMs from people who’d already left the city and had a strong opinion about it. To be honest, reading all of these at once – while helpful in many ways – was also overwhelming as everyone either wants to tell you that they left the city and regretted it or that it was the best thing they ever did. I felt more confused than ever as I read relatable and insightful explanations from both sides of the fence.

Some reiterated that we shouldn’t rush to leave unless we have kids as we’ll feel isolated in a small town without ready-made parent mates. There were also a handful of earnest ‘why don’t you get a place in the country for weekends?’ suggestions. I can only assume those well-meaning folks have never lived on the salary of a freelance magazine journalist. IYKYK. Unless you have a trust fund, and then you definitely don’t know.

In the end, there were so many people who said they regretted leaving London that I wrote a follow-up piece to give some of them a chance to explain why. I also wanted to make others feel less alone if they’d taken the plunge and realised it was a mistake. You can read that here.

The Cornwall dream house where we stayed as I was writing my leaving London piece. It’s called Packet House.

Since my essay was published in July 2023:

• In October, our rent went up by £400 a month, so it’s no longer the (comparative) bargain that it was at the time of writing. We couldn’t afford to save for a deposit on top of paying rent before, so now the idea of saving a lump sum is even less likely. That means we’re still looking at rentals and also coming to terms with the realisation that we may never get on the property ladder.

• My boyfriend was working from home previously but now he’s back in the office full-time (by choice). He’s an introvert with general anxiety disorder and always assumed he’d prefer to work from home, but that hasn’t been the case. He loves the routine of getting out of the flat every day and seeing a couple of work friends who he’s comfortable with. Since the essay was published, his company has switched from fully remote working to a minimum of two days in the office, meaning the UK is no longer our oyster. As well as needing to look at locations that are easily commutable, the train fare adds a significant expense (hundreds a month), which reduces our budget and potentially means spending just as much on rent and bills as we do now, albeit for more space and better air quality.

• I don’t think I ever truly allowed myself to accept just how rocky my mental health has been since I left a full-time job to work from home, alone. In the past few months, it’s been playing on my mind that moving somewhere rural, just the two of us with no family or friends nearby, could be a massive red flag for potential loneliness and depression. It has made me want to refocus our search on towns or smaller cities where I can walk to coffee shops and bakeries, make new local friends or jump on a train to London for the day. The countryside appeals for a weekend but maybe not full-time. Not just yet.

• I am so particular about where I’ll live and my list of requirements is long. Unreasonably long if I’m honest and this has been the biggest barrier so far. I care deeply about how my home looks and makes me feel, so aesthetically, it has to appeal, especially as we’ll rent and can’t change much. The problem is, I’m either faced with twee cottages full of Cath Kidston florals and pink Agas or it’s the dreaded ‘recently refurbished’ situation, with a clinical white kitchen, grey walls and shiny grey carpet. I look on Rightmove every day but I simply cannot find anything that I like enough to view, let alone move into. Well, I can, but they are wayyyyy out of our £2000p/m max budget and they’re nowhere near a train station. Did I mention I can’t drive?

• I think the main realisation though has been that we don’t actually want to leave London yet, we just want to move from this flat, and that’s why we’re dragging our feet. We do crave a home with a fireplace, a second bedroom, skylights, a garden, and a quieter, prettier neighbourhood with a sense of community, but you can find all of those things in London if you have the money and move out of the city’s financial district. We could rent a slightly bigger flat but I have OCD and I’m completely obsessed with any sound from neighbours, so that rules out 99% of the thin walls and non-insulated ceilings within our budget. Like the majority of ordinary people, we can’t afford to stay in London and have the kind of life or home that would make us feel content, but we don’t really want to go either. If we went now, we’d miss the shops, the food scene, coffees with friends, networking at IRL work events, the parks, the chance to walk for hours with no real aim but so many possibilities. I wouldn’t miss the ever-worsening crime, the expense, the pollution, the phone-snatching in the street, but it’s not an easy place to untangle myself from, especially after 15 years here.

• For now, if you need me, I’ll be on Rightmove, searching every county within two hours of London with crossed fingers and unrealistic expectations.

Thanks for reading! If you’re in a similar predicament or already made the move, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

I’d appreciate you sharing this post if you feel so inclined! If you enjoy my Substack, a recommendation or a restack goes a very long way to helping me reach new readers and I will forever think good thoughts about you! xx