Last weekend I went to Jersey, the Channel Island between England and France. As always when I visit a new place, I instantly try to imagine living there. My analysis of potential future homes has its shortcomings I’ll admit, it usually centres around how the deliveroo options compare to those in London, closely followed by criteria like, proximity to sandy beaches, sunshine hours, the people and just the general vibes. Why ruin the fun with real life practicalities.
Where Jersey was lacking in take-away options it more than made up for in coastlines, friendliness and (so I was told) it gets 400 hours more sun than the UK per year. Count me in.
So as usual, arriving back into London after a break, I hurtled into an existential crisis about why the hell I live here. As I crush onto the tube to get home, an aggy londoner pushes past and the grey rainy skies cloud over, I find myself questioning all of my life choices. I physically and mentally enter ‘city mode’. Closing in, scrunching up, head down and walking substantially quicker than usual. Sometimes I wonder if cities like London or New York actually make people into the worst versions of themselves.
So why then, do I always come back?
I moved from the North-West down to London for uni (14 years ago 👀) but have since had stints in other places - Manchester, Chicago, Mallorca. I’ve spent time travelling through North America, across Asia, around Europe, trying places on for size before dutifully returning to my old safe bet, the big smoke.
People often ask me if I think I’ll stay in London forever, would I move back to the North or ever want to live abroad? The problem, it seems to me, is that London has an addictive toxicity which makes it hard to leave. Despite the curses of extortionate house prices, obnoxious commutes, polluted air, and a plethora of other reasons anyone rational would question living here. When you’ve survived London’s flaws, tamed its traps and grown to love it warts and all, it’s like you become a member of a secret society. When you reveal where you live, people say things like “oh wow, what’s that like?!” as if it’s the emerald city and you’re on first-name terms with the wizard himself. Cue my favourite meme of all time. Case in point!
So what is it like? Why the hell do I live here? And how does London score on my loose lifestyle criteria list? Here are a few (more) thoughts…
Granted, it’s not very sunny BUT when the sun does come out it’s the most joyful place ever. People flock to sit on any form of grass with tins of gin, bbq’s and a seasonal smile on their faces. This is a novelty that will never wear off.
The general vibe is art, music, culture, theatre, history, stories everywhere you go. Even on the godforsaken tube, there is poetry and mosaics and a comedic Transport For London worker making people laugh over the tannoy.
The people can be dickheads come from every corner of the world, representing every personality-type, culture, colour, shape, age, size, hair style, accent, fashion sense, political beliefs all hustling together in a beautifully diverse melting pot.
There are historical buildings which have survived bombings, wars and gunpowder plots, standing proud and often conveniently located next to a Pret-A-Manger.
There aren’t any beaches particularly close by, much to my distress, but there is greenery everywhere. Trees, plants, parks, commons and if you take a second to look up from the floor, there are usually pretty window boxes.
There is variety and as we all know, variety is the spice of life.
Lime bikes are really handy and they’re everywhere.
And yes, it’s blindingly expensive. Yes, it can chew you up and spit you out. Yes, it is every man for himself and yes, it rains a lot.
But, there is no better place for restaurant options on Deliveroo.