Things I learned living in London:

From a former Londoner who misses Borough Market more than you know

That the best nights do not happen in Soho, where you’d expect them to happen. The best nights happen in Zone 2, in a series of bars you will never, ever remember the names of.  

That borough market is the best market. I don’t care if that’s a basic thing to say.

That most of the time, London is not half as unpleasant as it’s made out to be. On my first ever commute, I was wearing new shoes. The walk from Waterloo to my office on South Bank ripped my heels to shreds. And I mean that literally — I was visibly bleeding at the back of both ankles. I was walking like I’d taken two gunshot wounds to the feet and fighting tears. At one point I think I might have whimpered. Before I’d reached Southwark, however, not one, but TWO separate women gave me Compeed. From their own personal stash (!), Having noticed me, an injured rat amongst the race, they chose to help. One of them didn’t even stop to chat about it, she just slipped it into my hand as she was passing like some suave, motherly dealer. And I hate to be that person, but Compeed isn’t cheap. In that moment, as I bled out into the street on my Junior Account Executive salary, I’d just experienced the ultimate act of selflessness. Twice.  

That occasionally, London is exactly as unpleasant as it’s made out to be. I’ve witnessed an entire tube carriage full of seated people refuse to make eye contact with a pensioner standing with her leg in a plaster cast.  

That it’s true what people say: you will get used to the tube. But that doesn’t mean you’ll ever like it — we do not belong underground.

That there is a very specific kind of contentment that can only be found in the back of an Uber that’s crossing the Thames at some point after 1am (it doesn’t matter which bridge, but you do get bonus points if you can see Tower Bridge or Big Ben). You must be slightly tipsy. You will feel like the luckiest, most glamorous person in the world. You will rest your head on the window and watch the landmarks rush past and think “my life is a movie”. In reality, you’re on your way back to a zone 3 house share after spending £75 on two bottles of room temperature wine in central. The Uber will cost you another £30, and tomorrow you’re going to have a wine headache no amount of Pret can save at work. But it doesn’t matter. Look at the river. Your life IS a movie.

That London water doesn’t agree with my skin AT ALL. I’m not going to expand on that in the public domain, but just know it really messed my legs up for a while. I didn’t even know water could do that.

That everywhere “runs out” of roasts by, like, 4pm on a Sunday. I don’t know if this is specific to London, but it’s definitely not a problem I’ve ever had up north. If anybody can shed light on this, please do?

That everybody seems more sociable in London. And they probably are. But that’s just because nobody drives and most people hate their flat shares at least a little bit. This formula is very much conducive to spontaneous plans/after work drinks.

That, on the rare occasion there isn’t something going on, you’ll feel much lonelier than you would elsewhere, because it feels like everyone else is out doing spontaneous plans/after work drinks.

That everyone who doesn’t live in London will think your salary is much higher than it is because salaries are higher in London. You will explain that they’re not that much higher and actually, you’re skint pretty much all the time.

That even though you’re skint pretty much all the time, the occasional tipsy Uber ride across the river makes it worth it.

That, when you live in London, interesting things will happen to you. You will meet more people from more walks of life. Inevitably, you will get free tickets to a niche exhibition, or a new show, or a friend’s fancy work party with an open bar in some place you could never afford otherwise.

That being home alone in a house you share with flatmates is immensely creepier than being home alone in your own house where you live alone. Was that noise one of the girls letting themselves in downstairs or was it a serial killer? Who knows? Have they brought friends back? Or are we being robbed? Couldn’t tell you. Let’s wait to find out.

That you’ll get more photos next to the “Well Behaved Women Don’t Make History” sign in Tonight Josephine than you’re proud of.

That there might come a time when the city lights and the after work drinks and the art and the West End and the fancy new gym classes that haven’t made their way up north yet just aren’t worth it anymore. You will question this when it comes. Then, one day, the Uber ride across the river won’t work its magic, and you will know.

That, when that day comes, you will miss Borough Market and Hyde Park and drinks on the South Bank immensely, but you will be grateful for family and home friends and fields and living near the beach and not paying half your salary on rent every month. And you’ll know that leaving London was the right thing for you at the time.

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About The Content Girl

Opinions, insights, and the occasional marketing musing from a professional Content Writer giving writing in her own voice a go. You can expect:

• Commentary on pop-culture/regular culture and the like

• Insights/tips/information around professional Content Writing/Marketing and Digital Marketing

• Personal essays (I’ll try to make these not insufferable, I swear)

• Book reviews, recommendations, and roundups

• The odd piece of flash fiction

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