There is nothing like two stints of maternity leave, totalling nearly two years spent attending baby and toddler activities, interspersed with trips to coffee shops, the co-op or park in my local community to make me appreciate the thrill of the beating heart of London’s zone 1 and professional working life. 

A love letter to London… 

Now working part time, my days visiting you aren’t a Monday to Friday grind anymore. I commute either by bike or tube and its a delight. Three days a week at work away from my two young children in the big smoke are a thrill.

Me and you have had our highs and lows. You nearly chewed me up and spat me out when I arrived here 15 years ago – you can be an unforgiving, cold hearted bitch sometimes. You were a lonely and daunting place at first, but I persevered – made friends, got a job, found an area I liked and settled there.

In the early days I found myself exhausted every three months or so and would board the train to my rural home town for a weekend of respite and the country air I was accustomed to. I first realised you had got under my skin when, on my return, I would take the number 4 bus from Waterloo back to my Islington flat share and you would take my breath away as we crossed the river and weaved our way through the city. Revitalised, I always felt glad to be back.

Gritty, dirty, pulsing, awe inspiring, unforgiving, beautiful London – I really do love you.

Could I ever live somewhere else now? I’ve come to expect things fast and efficient, choices and variety, culture and diversity, hustle and bustle – you both tire me out and energise me London.

My life now seems to have a more obvious and steady path ahead than when I first arrived and life’s future possibilities seemed endless. I thought that one day I would be able to afford the clothes and products featured in Stylist magazine. I would be spritzing my face with himalayan rose essential oil infused mineral water to revitalise myself in the morning before heading to my company in the west end in my role as MD. I would play the drums in a band, speak at least two languages fluently, live in one of the beautiful big victorian terrace houses in Highbury. I would be dropped by my chauffeur behind Selfridges to go shopping, before lunching at the champagne and oyster bar, like the ladies I used to see on my lunch break in Marble Arch, where I got my first job on moving here 15 years ago. 

Nowadays I actually revitalise myself with a flat white from Costa coffee on Caledonian Road before starting my part time job in projects at a local authority. The longer the queue the better, so I can relish these moments of calm and civility for as long as possible before starting the working day. Walking along the busy streets now a pleasure, ducking and diving the sea of faces, feeling totally present and absorbing the atmosphere, sounds and the detail of the buildings, instead of focusing on controlling two small children.

The wondrous (yet infrequent) evenings out, riding the bus as it winds its way through the dirty, grey streets, steeped in history and culture. Blissful anonymity.

As we contemplate leaving you for good with our two young children my heart aches. I worry I’ll miss you in ways I can’t yet imagine. Like an annoying relative – you get on my nerves and grind me down sometimes – but I’ll always love you London.