This Mummy Can: Doesn’t Love London Anymore

Dear London,

I don’t love you anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had 18 wonderful years living in your crazy city. I met my wife, had my kidney transplant and gave birth to my baby all within the North Circular.

But recently I’ve slowly fallen out of love with you… it’s wiping black snot from my daughter’s nose, it’s having our car broken in to 4 times in a year, it’s Kate’s disabled badge being stolen, it’s Scout’s bag being nicked from outside our front door, it’s heaving a buggy up flights and flights of stairs with no one offering to help and the lift being broken for months on end (yes, King’s Cross – I’m looking at you.) It’s the speed people drive down our road scratching and knocking our car as they do, it’s the insane prices for coffee and nursery… £100 for a day for child care? Well, I might as well not go back to work. It’s getting on the bus and not knowing what kind of person is going to leer at your or your baby, it’s the hideousness of traffic, parking, oyster costs. It’s not being able to afford or get tickets for anything that you want to go to. It’s not being offered a seat on the tube as you carry you heavily pregnant belly and wipe sweat from your brow.

London is a waiting room. A waiting room for people to meet their spouse, to shake off dating and clubbing days, to get on the career ladder, to while away your twenties eating takeaways and drinking wine in cheap bars, staying up all night, spending way beyond your means but not caring. Then one day if you are lucky enough you give birth to a tiny precious bundle. One you would give your whole life up for in a heart beat. And you start to see London in a totally different way… a darker way.

Like a protective Mama Bear I feel I need to get out of London, taking my girls with me, for a better life. For more space, cleaner air, an affordable lifestyle. Stairs! A garden which isn’t the size of a matchbox.

Goodbye London. I’ll never forget you.

This Mummy Can Move…?

I posted on Instagram a few weeks ago about how being on holiday had made me realise how much our life was enhanced by some fresh air, space (inside or out) and sunshine and how it made been making me question whether we should stay in our tiny 2 bed flat in Stoke Newington, Hackney… I received lots of lovely replies – some telling me that they were thinking the exact same thing and others reassuring me that these are normal thoughts to have on holiday and I’ll go back home and realise how much I love our tiny flat and forget all thoughts on moving. Expect we didn’t… 

And here we are a couple of weeks later putting our much loved flat on the market and are currently in search of new pastures… we don’t even know exactly where we’ll move yet let alone the exact property. It all feels a bit mad to be honest but we know with our ever expanding family (more cats anyone?) that we need more space and we need it now. I’m also desperate to live in a cleaner area, with better air and better schools – all things that I hadn’t really thought about pre-baby but when I wipe scout’s nose and her snot is black I wonder what the hell I’m doing bringing her up in such a built up polluted area. 

We’ve made a wish list of all the things we want in a new property and some of them are fairly ridiculous (ie. Kate’s wish for a swimming pool, dream on babes) but others are more sensible such as bi-folding doors, a kitchen island, a nice garden, quiet street and within walking distance of shops and park. Surely we can find somewhere right? Add in the fact that Kate is keen to move up north to be near family and I want to move down south to be by the sea and we’ve got ourselves a fairly interesting conundrum. Watch this space!