An Ode to London - And Why I'm Moving to Paris

A thank you to London. And a bit of letting go.

Ahh yes - the time has come to share something that’s been brewing for a while: my husband and I are moving to Paris.

As we prepare to say goodbye, I felt like writing a bit more about this move.

Consider this part diary, part brain-dump, maybe a tiny bit of an attempt to justify our decision. But mostly, I wanted to share this experience for anyone else who might be thinking about a big move - about packing up and changing a part of their life that’s been core for a while.

The best advice I’ve held onto lately?

It’s okay to love something deeply and still decide to leave it behind for something new and unknown.

That’s part of being curious. And fundamentally human.

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Back to the beginning.

We landed in London 7 years ago - just after the Brexit vote - when everything still felt a bit “wait and see.”

It wasn’t exactly a long-held dream. At the time, my now-husband and I were doing long-distance - I was in New York, he was in Montreal - and we were trying to figure out how to finally be in the same city again. London felt practical: my company had an office there, so I could transfer easily, and he found work easily.

As French nationals, people often asked: why not just go to France?

And honestly, we considered it. For about five hot minutes.

I wasn’t confident in my professional French, I saw the culture as rigid, a bit grognon (grumpy x10), and overly hierarchical. And after years abroad, going back felt like going backwards. I just wasn’t ready.

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And then there was London.

I remember flying over, London Calling in my ears (cliché, I know) - hyping myself up, full of fresh-start energy. I was ready to jump into a city I’d always admired from afar - forward-thinking yet a little weird and quirky (in the best way).

London delivered. And then some.

After Montreal and New York, it felt like the perfect middle ground - more grown-up than Montreal, more breathable than New York.

Shoreditch became our first home. We’d only visited the city once before moving, but we quickly fell into rhythm:

• Cute cafés

• Really good and diverse eats

• Corner pubs

• A big city with village-sized pockets

• Sunday roasts

• Scones on scones

• Free museums

• The 141 or 76 double-decker bus, our lifeline

• Brits apologising even when you bump into them

• The first time a cashier called me “love” in Tesco

• That classic, dry, slightly absurd British humour

• The long weekends in Dorset, Kent, or the Cotswolds

• And always the comfort of being close enough to France - but not in it

The list goes on.

London <3

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So… why leave?

It started with personal questions.

Could we see ourselves starting a family here?

Could we ever afford to own a home?

Could we keep living the life we loved in London - without constantly feeling like we were just getting by?

We loved so much about London, but it became harder to imagine a future that felt doable - or sustainable. The math didn’t work. The energy didn’t either.

And slowly, what started as personal questions started revealing bigger, structural ones.

Covid was - obviously - a turning point.

Looking back at the strange ways we got through lockdown

At first, it was logistical - wiping down fruit, borders closing, not knowing when we’d see family again. Suddenly, being on an island wasn’t just metaphorical. It felt physical, emotional, and isolating.

That sense of separation stuck. And over time, it became less about geography - and more about culture, politics, and systems.

There were moments of unity - the Queen’s speech genuinely gave me hope - but the disconnection that followed lingered. The return to “normal” never really happened. Not for us.

Things just started to feel... heavier. Drip by drip.

• Brexit fatigue

• Cost of living creeping up (and up)

• Political division

• Struggling to save even with decent jobs

• A housing market that felt, frankly, impossible

• And when I needed care, seeing firsthand how overstretched the NHS had become was a reminder of how far proper, preventative care can still feel

That was the pattern: everything was technically functioning, but rarely working.

And maybe the algorithm knows when you're quietly unravelling, because around that time I started seeing things like the UK Foundations report or opinion pieces that didn’t say anything I hadn’t already felt - but they made it all feel a little less personal, a little less like it was just us. (Okay, maybe also a bit more alarming.)

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And now... we’re moving.

Some might say we’re running away, or that we’re part of the problem. Maybe there’s truth in that. But we’re also just trying something different.

Yes, I know we’re lucky. We’re French. We speak the language. We have family all over the country - including Paris. We don’t have kids or major admin hurdles. It’s easier for us than it is for many.

But it’s still a big shift.

And France isn’t perfect. No illusions there. The situation is... not ideal (stories like this make me want to delete the news app).

But for now, it offers more of what we need:

• Closer to family

• Better day-to-day quality of life

• Access to preventative healthcare

• Maybe more space - maybe even a home of our own

• A new pace

• Just… a change

Cheesy - Paris here we come!

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One last lap around the Big Smoke.

We’ve got one month in London - and we’re making it count.

• Morning coffees at our second home - the De Beauvoir Deli

• Final slices at Saponara and Sweet Thursday

• Pints in the sun outside the Rosemary Branch

• Maybe one last nostalgic trip to the V&A

• One more wander through Columbia Road on a Sunday

I’ve still got a lot more to say about London (my drafts folder is about 30 deep, so expect more takes soon).

This isn’t adieu. Just à bientôt.

I'll miss this view.

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If you’ve got any London gems we shouldn’t miss before we go, send them my way.

And if you’ve made a big move, are thinking about one, or just want to share some solid life advice - I’m all ears (and yes, a little teary) 💛

xx Anna