I was due to catch a flight at 11am from Heathrow to Shannon, Ireland for a wedding. My friends and I were to go straight from the airport to the wedding ceremony that Saturday. Having travelled repeatedly out of Heathrow, I knew exactly when to leave my flat to avoid sitting around Heathrow watching the clock and idiotic travellers shop at an airport. I woke up expecting the day to be relatively calm and peaceful. It took me two hours to experience enough stress and angry thoughts to send most people onto a therapists' couch (or into a mental institution).

I have been living in London for nearly six years now. I’m in my thirties and it is becoming increasingly apparent that this is no longer a city that meets my needs. However, the decision to leave is not that easy and it is actually filling me with a lot of sadness as each day passes. I think almost every Londoner who wasn’t born and raised here struggles with the decision to leave. It is scary the amount of people I have met over the past several years that talk about leaving London. Yet none of these people ever leave. I’ve asked people how long they have thought about leaving. So many have been struggling with this for longer than half their time in the city. Recently a girl, that has been in London for 13 years, told me she has thought about leaving for 11 years. You would think for such a transient population, it wouldn’t be difficult to leave if they wanted to.

London. When we first started our relationship I was head over heels in love with you. I would have done anything for you. Life was colourful. Everything I saw, I saw beauty. Everything I experienced, was warm. Every challenge I faced was never too big. I would tolerate the most painful dates, the most arduous commutes in to work and even the wind and rain pelting me in the face.