There are so many reasons not to move to London – I did it anyway
I have moved out of my parents’ house three times. The first, to go to university at 18, before ending up back in my childhood bedroom three years later finding I had graduated with a degree, an improved tolerance for alcohol and absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. The second time, a year later, I moved out to do a masters which was, almost exactly a year ago, unceremoniously cancelled in the middle of a lecture due to Covid-19. I moved back to my family home after a few months of virtual studying in my house-share, grateful for the safety net but anxious at the prospect of graduating into a pandemic and unable to keep up my rent without a job.
The third and (hopefully) final time was in December 2020, the day after lockdown lifted. I had a job at Reaction and sauntered back to the big city to the mixed relief and sadness of my parents who had briefly refilled their empty nest.
The decision to move into London during the pandemic is somewhat at odds with the general millennial movement. The argument for moving out of the city is that London rent is expensive and if you can work-from-home why not either live somewhere cheaper or free (if your parents are so generous). In August of last year, the London Assembly Housing Committee published a report detailing that one in seven Londoners wanted to leave the capital due to the pandemic and, for the first time in the 21st century, London’s population is expected to fall this year.
But in spite of the high rents there is nowhere in the UK I would rather live, in or out of lockdown.
Having experienced a lockdown both in London and in the Chiltern Hills, there are obviously benefits to both. For the latter, mainly the fresh air and countryside walks. But walking in London during lockdown has turned out to be one of my favourite things to do; almost every weekend my housemates and I walk across the slightly-less congested city, discovering nooks and crannies we never would have noticed in the rush of pre-pandemic life, noting down restaurants, cafes and pubs to return to once things open up. Having grown up in a small village in the middle of nowhere there is something so exciting about city walks; the endless coffee shops and bakeries to swing into for sustenance; not having to wear wellies, Google Maps always being able to get you home, the abundance of sausage dogs in South London and even the streetlights that illuminate evening walks.
I don’t buy the argument that you could live anywhere in lockdown either. Even in a pandemic, London has endless ways to keep you occupied. From watching the sunset over the city skyline on Telegraph Hill in Peckham to take-away pints across the city; an unmatched number of takeaways and meal kits to try from cuisines around the world, an outdoor walking gallery in Chelsea and a putting green on the Greenwich peninsula, to name but a few. London has an idea for every tier. The 2011 census ranked London as having the second largest population of immigrants in the world, it is a city bursting with character and diversity – each borough offers something of its own and though the hustle and bustle has been a little quiet lately, I can’t think of anywhere else in the world that makes me feel so inspired by the heterogeneity around me. According to Business Insider, London was the third most visited city in the world in 2019, with over 19 million visitors heading to our capital. I understand the appeal.
Research conducted by the University of Loughborough last year found that approximately six in 10 (3.5 million) single 20-34 year-olds currently live in their family homes. The decision young people face between financial security and independence is hugely frustrating and glaring evidence of housing inequality in Britain and extortionate rent prices in London.
My third-time-lucky attempt to fly the nest was motivated by the desperate need to feel like an adult and take control of my life. I am lucky enough to have a wonderful relationship with my parents but joining meetings in the same room in which I played with my toys as a child and studied for my GCSEs felt regressive. I was trying to carve out my path as an adult whilst my mum still made me dinner. This colloquially nicknamed concept of “boomerang children” returning home after moving out is a phenomenon unmatched in the rest of the animal world. Lizards hatch their eggs and walk away without a second glance, birds push their chicks out of the nest, even orangutans only parent their offspring for eight years. Forcing myself out of the comfort of my family home has provided me with the right headspace to focus on my career and long-term goals.
The price of independence is high, but I couldn’t be without it. And when the pubs, restaurants, galleries and theatres London is renowned for open back up, I’ll be a little smug to be the first to enjoy them, thinking of all the city-fleers stuck on the train, back to being tourists in their own city.