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I’m proof that a Londoner can move to the coast without regrets

Charlotte and Nigel, with their children Sammy, nine, and Matilda, seven - Courtesy of Charlotte Northedge
Charlotte and Nigel, with their children Sammy, nine, and Matilda, seven - Courtesy of Charlotte Northedge

I can clearly remember the moment I realised it was time to give in and move out of London. I had just arrived for an Easter break with my family in Dorset. We threw open the back door of the cottage we were staying in and our children, then four and seven, ran out into the vast green field behind us, laughing and shouting. My husband stood in the doorway looking happier than I’d seen him all year. ‘This is what it could be like all the time,’ he said, and something within me finally shifted.

When Nigel and I met 18 years ago, he was in the process of buying a flat in Leigh-on-Sea in Essex, where he comes from. I grew up near Finsbury Park, in north London, and I’d gravitated back there after university, living close to friends, my sister, and a 20-minute bike ride from my office in King’s Cross, where I worked as a journalist. I saw no reason to ever leave. I assumed I’d bring up my children there, too. And since Nigel also worked in London as a web developer, he gave up his beach dreams and we eventually settled in Tottenham. But the question of moving to the coast never went away.

Nigel had a boat. He dreamt of weekends sailing, the children swimming in the sea, the freedom, the fresh air and space. All I thought about was the long commute to work, and missing friends, family and the buzz of the city. Yes, we’d stopped making as much use of the culture and nightlife after our children were born, and our weekends were increasingly spent driving out of London, in search of green spaces and fresh air. Yes, we had family and friends by the seaside, too. But what if we got there and I hated it? What if the children didn’t like their new school? What if we all missed London too much?

Then Nigel’s dad died suddenly, and his mum was on her own by the coast. We were reminded of how short life is, and how quickly it can pass you by if you don’t take risks and try new things. Our children were still young enough to settle quickly in a new environment. That week on holiday in Dorset, I watched how happily they ran and explored and enjoyed their freedom. And I saw all the stress and anxiety disappear from Nigel’s face.

The day we got back to London, we put the house on the market. Six months later, we moved into our new home in Leigh-on-Sea, with a view of the water, just moments from the beach. I had a lot of sleepless nights in the run-up to the move, convinced we were leaving behind everything we loved in London, but my worries turned out to be unfounded. The children settled quickly, the local parents and neighbours were friendly and welcoming, I got used to the commute.

In fact, I used the extra time on the train to finish the novel I’d been trying to write for years. My debut thriller The House Guest is set in north London, and tells the story of Kate, a new arrival who gets caught up with a charismatic life coach and her sinister group of followers. Somehow, having distance from the novel’s setting, and being in a new environment, gave me the inspiration I needed to get it written.

Now, a typical weekend is spent walking, swimming or paddleboarding. Before the pandemic, we had a constant stream of friends come to visit, and some have even moved here since. But it was during the lockdowns that I truly appreciated the decision we made – being able to walk on the beach every single day, rain or shine, or even snow. Swimming in the sea all summer when the pools were closed. And always having that open horizon to gaze out on. Every day, I look out at the sea and feel grateful that we took the plunge. Otherwise we’d never have known what we were missing. 

‘The House Guest’ by Charlotte Northedge is published on Thursday (HarperCollins, £14.99).

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