I’ve lived on my street for four and a half years. That’s quite a long time by London standards. We moved house two years ago but literally just a few doors down. If I crane out of my window I can still see our old place. I don’t like the curtains they’ve put up but hey, we can’t all be exhibitionists.
As I drove the ten minute drive home from my best friend’s flat on Tuesday night it suddenly dawned on me how exceptionally lucky I am. I’d just spent an evening shovelling fajitas into my gob and snuggling under a blanket to tell tales about boys with my very best mate, just as we did when we were 14. Nothing had changed, except we were now talking about bosses rather than teachers and we were slagging off the gym rather than PE. It could have been 2002. And I’d like to think it could be 2032 too.
I’ve only driven to Katie’s a handful of times since she moved there as we usually meet out, so I’d put the sat nav on to guide me home. Half way through the journey I realised I hadn’t looked up at it once and I felt a wave of giddiness come over me. Do I know these roads now? Is this home?
I tried to pinpoint when I first felt “at home” in this part of the world, because for a long time I definitely didn’t. I used to painfully agonise about this lack of belonging. The fact that I was in a great apartment in a fantastic neighbourhood with a bloke I loved made me feel particularly ungrateful. “Some people don’t even have hot water!”, I’d tell myself through guilty tears. I had “no right to complain”.
But I would, of course.
“I’ll never make any local friends”
“I’ll never recognise anyone in the street”
“This will always be somewhere I just live at the moment rather than somewhere I call home”
“I’ll never have a dog”. (Okay perhaps that one is unrelated, but for a while I was convinced that having a dog would help me bond with my postcode).
Not long after I moved up here, my family moved 150 miles or so away from where I grew up. This only played to my ability to over-dramatise. “London’s not my real home and my real home isn’t my real home any more either”. (Cue incessant wailing whilst my then boyfriend – now husband – ponders what he’s let himself in for by agreeing to love me).
I remember speaking to my mum perhaps 18 months after they moved and she said she was still finding it hard that she could go shopping in her new “home town” and still not recognise a single face. My parents had lived in the same village for nearly 25 years. They, like me, were used to recognising EVERYBODY in the Sainsbury’s car park. Going to the market on a Thursday was like a five hour epic as you’d constantly have to stop to chat. As children my sister and I would actively avoid going because we knew it would take so long.
“Who is that woman? How do you know that old lady? Do you even know that man’s name? Please don’t stop to talk to any more people. No don’t chat to her as well! Why aren’t we at home eating crisp sandwiches yet?”
And the connections were always vague, “oh she used to come to my Step class in 1995” or “I have no idea who he was to be honest but I recognised his labrador”. But it was all wonderfully familiar, like watching an episode of Friends for the four hundredth time but still wanting to sit there til the end.
I was convinced I would never have that here. It’s LONDON for god’s sake. Eight and a half million people live here. 300 languages are spoken. There’s more than one secondary school and there’s more than one lady who’s only ever seen pushing a bike, but never riding it.
Slowly but surely though, it has become my home. Not the whole great sprawling city, but this little corner of SW6.
I do recognise people in the shops. I may not know who they are further than the back stories I’ve invented in my head, but the familiarity of their faces is still re-assuring.
I know the names of my neighbours. Not all of them, but some.
I sign petitions about local issues and get excited by ladies with clipboards, because I genuinely care about sewers and transport links.
We buy sweets for trick or treaters at Halloween and I know the kids that come to the door.
I’ve always considered myself a country girl at heart, but towards the end of Christmas I was dying to get back here. Not just for the peace and quiet of my own space, but for everything London. As we headed into Chiswick from the M4 I felt this real “oooooooh we’re home” excitement. I never thought I could feel at home amongst tall blocks of cement and yet there I was, giddy about giant billboards and bus lanes.
I think the fact that I work from home definitely compounded my problems in the beginning. I didn’t have “work mates” who might invite me out on the way home. I could have joined some sort of local club I suppose, but I didn’t want to. I was worried it seemed desperate. (And, ya know, I’d rather be moaning about having no local mates than dare to look desperate).
My husband has lived in this neighbourhood for 15 years, so this was very much just my issue. He didn’t grow up here but he has a good handful of life-long friends living within ten minutes of us. With time they have of course become our friends rather than just his. This definitely helped me.
I think spending more time on our doorstep has helped foster my love for this little corner of London too. I’ve lived and worked in various boroughs for more than a decade now so I do know London well, but I’ve felt more of a sense of belonging since spending more time locally. I’m not saying you should ignore the endless awesome things there are to do in a gigantic sprawling city, but by exploring all the local restaurants and shops rather than defaulting to going to Westfield/Soho I’ve definitely fallen more in love with the immediate area I live in. It’s hard to get me out of it actually.
Having my best childhood friend move nearby has definitely made the biggest difference though. It’s easily one of the greatest things that has ever happened. Being able to meet up briefly, without it being “a big thing” planned weeks in advance is positively luxurious.
There’s no real point to this post I suppose, other than to perhaps re-assure anyone who feels like they don’t “belong” in a new part of town that it does get better. It doesn’t happen overnight, but one day there will be this sense that everything has fallen into place. Whether it’s a waiter knowing your name, not having to check the parking restrictions on a random street or simply recognising a cat on your walk home.
I wish I had some more tips to share as I know how horrible it is to feel out of place where you live. But I really do think that time is the main factor. In hindsight perhaps I should have joined some clubs to accelerate the process but hey, I didn’t. (What can I say? I really really didn’t want to play netball). I did think about organising some sort of meet-up dinner for women in the area who felt similarly, but I never got around to it. (Quelle surprise). I still think it might be a good idea though.
Having friends and family to stay helped. I loved (and still do love) showing off local places to out-of-towners. I often think you don’t appreciate something until you’re ramming it down a tourist’s throat, so to speak.
And then the massive community that is THE INTERNET was also a huge help. There are always people to talk to on Twitter (ask any work-from-homer how important Twitter is and you’ll have them gushing for hours) and local blogs and news sites have been fabulous for getting ideas for things to do and places to visit.
I still, in time, want to live closer to family. I want a garden (IMAGINE HAVING A GARDEN) and I’ve spent so long saying that we’ll eventually live in Cheshire that I’ve come to believe it as gospel now.
We’ll be here for at least the next five years though. Probably longer. But that doesn’t scare me any more.
There’s no place like home, after all. And home is right here.
x
Lovely post Poppy – I feel exactly the same, moved to London in 2008 and felt SO ALONE for years, but now having been in the same house for 5 years I finally feel more settled. Saying that, I can’t wait to move out of the big smoke and start a real ‘grown up’ life where I’m convinced it’ll be a much quicker process to feel like I do where I grew up (Bet it’ll take years again, but I’m hopeful!) xx
Ah thank you! And yes, I def think it must be easier/quicker anywhere other than London. People forget that just because you have mates in London, doesn’t mean you have mates nearby. My sister lives in London for example but she’s a good 1.5 hours away from me. A lot of friends live way out North/East. And lord knows people are lazy at heading out on the tube on the weekends if they can avoid it! Do you know where you’d like to move to eventually? x
Ha – well obviously “eventually” it would be some huge country pile somewhere with a few dogs, cats, horses, aga etc ;o)
In the meantime, it’ll have to be commuterland – out of London, but close enough to get to work (which to be honest might be quicker than the district line from SW London anyway!)
Tell me about it! My husband can’t imagine living in commutersville despite the fact I think he’d genuinely get to work quicker! X
This might seem like self promotion, but is not meant to be so – you mentioned Chiswick in your post, and not sure if you actually live there, but I run a pop up supper club at a deli in Chiswick, and it’s such a nice way for locals to connect. I have a real West London crowd that come, it’s like a glorified dinner party and people who’ve met there have now become the best of friends since!! I love being able to do something that makes people feel at home 🙂
Rosie xx
How very fabulous! I’m in Fulham but a big fan of Chiswick and will take any excuse to go. Have just read up and they sound ace. Would love to come along to one of these when a date suits (the next two annoyingly clash with Valentine’s plans and my birthday) so will look out for more! xxx
Fab post Poppy – so eloquently put. I moved from Bury, to London, then to Atlanta 15 years ago. I still at times feel like a fish out of water and I would never wish the sense of being home yet missing home on anyone – it can screw with your head. I do consider Altanta home now as I have children, a home and dogs but London will always feel like my true home as all my ‘proper’ friends are there, people get my jokes, and I can walk out of the house and see people immediately! I’ll always be different here but I’ve learned to embrace that and exploit it a little:) x
Thank you 🙂 I can’t imagine making a new life abroad. I nearly moved to San Francisco once (when I was single) and it’s something that we’ve discussed as a couple too. I think I’d cope with it, but then as you say there’s that innate desire sometimes to just be around people who have the exact same sense of humour/history.
I have family who emigrated and we always ask when they’ll come “home” and they kindly remind us that their faraway home IS home to them now. It’s all their kids know. It’s where their lives are now. (And not to mention they’ve lived there longer than here now!) xxx
I moved to Essex two years ago to take on a kennels and cattery business. I have no regrets at all, but it’s the kinda thing where someone needs to be on site 24/7, so whilst not impossible, it can be difficult to get out and meet people. I still have no friends! I’ve joined a nearby exercise class now, so you never know… Funny how you can feel quite alone and like nobody else feels the same, but it must happen to people all the time! Great post 🙂
Thanks Christina. It’s one of those typical things where if people talked about it more everyone would feel less alone! Xx
This is a lovely post so heartfelt. I loved city life (and Edinburgh is a small villagey city where you can easily get around) but had a major wobble when we had our first child and felt very lonely and isolated. At that point I would have done everything to go back ‘home’ to where I grew up. It took a couple of years to really feel settled again and that took moving from our lovely but impractical flat near the city to a house in the ‘burbs’. Even then it wasn’t until my son went to school and I’d had another baby that I really got to know people who live round about.
The only thing that’s a bit sad is that we aren’t near any of the grandparents but we do make sure the kids see them regularly and they have a great relationship with them.
Making friends is hard when you are an adult and it takes a while and I don’t think it’s something that people always recognise. Glad you feeling happy and settled xxx
It really does take a long time doesn’t it? I often thought it would be having children that would make me bond more with an area, but friends who do have kids would remind me that having kids doesn’t come with an automatic pass to a big gang of mummy friends. And whilst of course you’ll meet more people locally as kids go to school etc, that doesn’t happen for five years as you say! I’m excited to see where we do end up in time, I wish our families lived closer though. Closer to us and closer to each other! x
The whole mummy thing is a bit like starting uni. At first you are just so desperate to be friends with anyone that you end up hanging out with people that you really have nothing in common with apart from having a baby (hello lady with massive house, black lab and Volvo). The friendships that stick are with the people that you have things in common with apart from having kids. I probably didn’t go out and about enough at the start though which probably didn’t help making friends – it’s a very transitional and quite unsettling time but am sure when the time comes and you have your family you’ll be grand xxx
Hi poppy. Have you ever looked at the meetup website? I found a couple of friends through that when i moved city. Have to be a bit picky about which ones to go to tho…best ones for chatting to people are just drinks in a pub. I used to to go one with about 40 people each week x
I have but need to re-visit it. I remember being a bit put off when I first looked for local ones because I saw ones with a dating angle or ones which had a real Sloanie vibe (“we only like the nice things in life” etc etc, I really couldn’t get on board with the idea of a bunch of adult professionals trying to pretend they were on MIC) but I think you’re absolutely right that the pub type ones would work best. You just want a chilled atmosphere in that situation…you can mingle more easily and – importantly – you can leave if you hate it! Nothing worse than being completely ready to go home before the starters have come out at a formal three course meal with strangers! xxx
I’m seriously contemplating moving out of London when I return from travelling. Similarly, I WANT A GARDEN. I want a kitchen that actually has some storage space. I want a dog, dammit. London’s been fun and I’ll always gravitate back at some point even if it’s just for a weekend, but I think I need to go and adult somewhere properly, like.
Cx
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