I moved to London in 2018, a 24-year-old from a small Norfolk town desperate for city life. I loved it — the hustle, the endless options, the food. Then my husband was diagnosed with cancer. After successful surgery, he craved a quieter pace. Reluctantly, I agreed to try the suburbs.
In January 2024 we moved to Tunbridge Wells, Kent. The cottage had a garden and parking for the same rent as our London flat. But within a month I was begging our landlord to let us leave.
The Commuting Nightmare
Frequent train delays and cancellations meant I was waking at 5am and often not returning until 11pm. I’d eat, sleep, and repeat. It wasn’t living — it was existing. My husband, who loves nature and books, also grew bored. We missed spontaneity: last-minute theatre tickets, popping into the National Gallery. Tunbridge Wells felt like it offered everything in one day, with shops closing by 5pm.
The House Wasn’t Right
We realised we didn't need more space or a garden. We missed our tiny flat. Luckily we had rented with a six-month break clause. The months dragged. I worked late to avoid going home and refused to turn 30 there.
Back to London
As soon as we could, we moved back — this time to Zone 3, a compromise that gives us the best of both worlds. The commute is now a breeze on the District Line. I’m glad we tried the suburbs because now we appreciate London even more. It wasn’t that Tunbridge Wells was bad; it just wasn’t for us.
New figures from the Office for National Statistics show more than 400,000 people left London in a year, with the population down 0.3% in 2025. But for me, the grass wasn’t greener. A colleague once said, ‘You’ll be back here in six months.’ He was right — it just took a little longer.
