Moving to a city is a big deal. Especially when you’ve lived your entire life as a country-bumpkin. Where favourite past-times include walks in the countryside, drinking cider for much less than £5 a pint and understanding exactly what it means to have a local pub that you spend more time at than your own home.
Typically in any small country town you have three types of people. Firstly the born and breds… these are the ones who are an institution and their families have been growing up in the area for generations, if anyone in the family up and leaves or expresses any desire to leave they are perceived as potentially insane. Next there are the aspirational types… these guys dream of one day leaving, the day that they skip town is what they have spent the last decade(s) dreaming of. Lastly there’s the out of towners, the people who hail from other parts and infiltrate the quiet seclusion of the country and enjoy it’s novelty.
My parents are out of towners. They moved from Reading to Somerset when I was but a small child. I have no memory of having lived for any time in Reading, I only know the area because of family and my support for their football club. I used to flirt with the idea of being an aspirational townie. I wanted more than our town had to offer, I just couldn’t have imagined London until I found myself here for a month and loved it. The rest is history.
Megan, she was a born and bred. In fact she had grown up in a village just out of town. The kind of living where you’re bussed into the nearest town to go to school. A large portion of her life was spent on a farm. To begin with I couldn’t imagine her in the city at all. Then she came to visit me, and she seemed to flourish when she was here in London. Much like I had when I found myself working in Ealing for a month. The lure of endless opportunity and exploring your own potential was making a persuasive case for moving here. I could see it in her eyes.
If Megan made that fantastically huge decision to move here it would be a chance for her to write a new chapter in her life. She hated her job, moving to London could offer far better opportunities than the small confines of our country town. After seven years who wouldn’t be fed up of working in a supermarket? I didn’t even make it two years when I had worked there, and that was part time throughout college and University.
Megan was also craving her independence again, she felt like she had failed in some way for having gone back to her parents home after living out on her own for so long. Moving to London would force her back into that independence again. I could see that in the short time we had been together and she’d moved back home, she had gotten much closer to her parents. Yet she still struggled to call it home when she couldn’t do anything to make it hers.
Then there was me, I’ll admit that I was likely to be a huge deciding factor on Megan’s decision to come to London. We were intensely and passionately in love and we hated to be parted from each other. All the reasons for moving to London seemed to be stacked in our favour. We’d get to see each other when ever we wanted and instead of having to make do with a million text messages a day we could enjoy actually talking to each other face-to-face.
I loved living in my little shared house during this time. It’s the most affordable way to live in London and my housemates had long gained the status of friends and not just people that I happened to share living space with. My room would be too small for two, after just three months I wasn’t sure at all if living together would even be the right decision. But if Megan found a job and a house share of her own here in West London that would be pretty awesome.
I was getting carried away with the thought process the moment Megan had suggested it I was a million steps ahead. The first task at hand would be getting Megan a job up here. We put most of our efforts into searching for suitable job vacancies and I helped Megan overhaul her CV. Turns out I’m quite good at selling people. I’ve written CV’s for more people than I care to mention and usually with much better success than when I write my own.
Once we decided on this course of action and Megan started to apply, apply, apply! Well, there wasn’t anything left to do but wait. Something would eventually come of it all, I was certain. In the mean time we managed to carry on with our routine. Megan had time booked off to come up and visit me. I had started my new role as a Project Support Analyst. Megan had a new purpose in her free time when we weren’t together in finding and applying for jobs.
Everything was ticking along nicely. Even better when I look back and realise that with all that going on we still made sure that every moment we got to spend together was memorable. In October we celebrated halloween together, we even had an early bonfire night celebration at Longleat which put on a pretty spectacular firework display. I didn’t think life could get any better.