Why We're Doing This

We've Done This Before

Before Tallulah, before the cottage, before any of this - we spent 10 months travelling the world. Started in Vegas, hired a Mustang and drove to California, flew to Dubai, then Bali, Thailand, Vietnam, Australia, back to Bali, back to Dubai, Thailand again, then Bulgaria for skiing. Liam was working the whole time. We lived out of suitcases and loved it.

We even got married differently. Booked a 10 o'clock ceremony at a registry office near Gatwick, had 21 family members turn up, did the ceremony, and then everyone walked through the airport in wedding attire to an easyJet flight to Bulgaria. Had our wedding meal in Borovets. Some people went for three nights, some for five, we went for a week. Most of them went skiing. It was just us. We've never done things the normal way.

But after 10 months, Leila was getting homesick. She was bored because Liam was working and she had nothing to anchor to. We didn't have a home to go back to. That was the thing that got to her most - we didn't belong anywhere. So we came back and decided to give "normal" life a go.

The Cottage That Should Have Been Enough

We were living in a one-bed apartment in Walton-on-Thames. The rent went up and we said no. Both sets of parents were in our ears - you need to get on the property ladder, you need to settle down, get a mortgage, that's what you're supposed to do. And when you hear that enough times, you start to believe it.

We found a cottage in Rowde, a small village in Wiltshire. Half an hour from Liam's parents, two hours from Leila's. That bit stung - she was moving away from her friends, her family, everything she knew. But we went for it. Budget was tight, location was a compromise, but we got accepted.

Then, between getting accepted and actually moving in, we found out Leila was pregnant.

So we moved into a house that needed a complete renovation with a baby on the way. We threw ourselves into it - new kitchen, new bathroom, the works. The urgency of getting it ready for Tallulah was a distraction. It kept us busy. And when she arrived, the first year was fine. Leila was on maternity leave, finding baby groups, getting out every day. Tallulah would sleep in the corner of the gym while we worked out. It felt like it was working.

Then Winter Came

Tallulah started making noise at the gym, so we stopped going. Leila went back to work. Both of us working from home, in a village where we hadn't made a single friend in two years. Not through lack of trying - just lack of connection with anyone. There was nobody our age, nothing in common with the people around us.

Leila's friends from before had moved on too. They'd all moved to different areas. They keep in touch on a WhatsApp group but actually seeing each other? Once or twice a year if that. Everyone has different lives now.

You go through a UK winter feeling ill constantly. Tallulah started nursery before Christmas and since then it's been one thing after another - she picks something up, gives it to Leila, gives it to Liam, and by the time the last person is recovering the first person's got something new. It's relentless.

And the weekends. You wait all week for the weekend so you can actually do something, and it's pissing down with rain. So you go to soft play, spend £30, and Tallulah probably picks up another virus while she's there. The other option is a walk. The same walk. Again.

Liam goes weeks without seeing another human being outside the family. Not a colleague, not a friend, not even a stranger in a coffee shop - because there isn't one. You don't notice the isolation at first. Then one day you realise you haven't spoken to anyone except your partner and a toddler for two weeks.

We Were Just Co-Existing

Our relationship was suffering. We weren't fighting - it was worse than that. We were just co-existing. Living together and surviving. No fun, no progress, no quality time. Just getting through each day and hoping the next one would be different. It never was.

We used to be CrossFit people. Active, social, in the gym every day. Now we can't get to a gym without a 20-minute drive each way. The food in the UK feels terrible - everything processed, everything feels like it's killing you rather than feeding you. We went from smoothie bowls in Bali to ready meals in Wiltshire.

Tallulah Showed Us What Matters

Tallulah doesn't care about the garden. She doesn't care about the cottage or the countryside or the clean air. What she cares about is people. Anywhere there are people, she comes alive. She'll walk up to a complete stranger with her lamb teddy, chuck it on the floor, say "uh oh", wait for them to pick it up, then do it again. Laughing the whole time.

Put her in the pram and walk through a village? Bored, restless, trying to climb out. Put her in a hotel playroom in Norway with kids who don't even speak English? She's playing with them within seconds. She people-watches. She pays attention when there's something to see.

She's going to be our only child. We've got four years before school, and we're already a year into that. We don't want to waste it. She doesn't need toys - she's happy with an aeroplane magazine or the attention of a stranger in a restaurant. She'll get more from being in a pool with her parents than she ever will sat in our playroom at home.

The way the world is going, the skill that matters is interacting with people. Everyone sits behind screens. The people skills are fading. We want her to grow up confident, without fear, having been around different people and different places. She won't remember the travelling - but she'll develop from it.

Why Not Thailand?

This is the question everyone asks. We went to Thailand twice on our travels and loved it. So when we started talking about leaving again, that's where our heads went. We sat in the hot tub multiple evenings planning it. We'd land from Norway at Gatwick, catch a flight five hours later, and be in Thailand by the next day.

Then we actually tried to find somewhere.

When it was just the two of us, finding an apartment for £600 a month was easy because nothing mattered that much. With Tallulah it's completely different. You need a separate bedroom because she needs to sleep while you're working. You need a kitchen you can actually use. You need somewhere buggy-friendly. And you can't get a scooter anymore - which was how we got around last time - because you've got a baby.

Then there's the timezone. Liam works UK hours. 9am in London is 4pm in Thailand. Your entire day - the beach, the markets, the activities with Tallulah - gets spent knowing you've got work starting at teatime. And by 5:30pm UK time, it's half past midnight. You haven't had dinner with your family. You haven't done bedtime. You've just worked in a different room in a different country.

We remember going around to hotels in Asia and checking in, then checking straight back out because the WiFi wasn't good enough. That's not a problem you want with a baby in tow.

We haven't ruled Asia out completely. If Leila gives up work fully, the timezone thing becomes less of an issue because it's only Liam who needs to be on UK hours. But right now, with both of us working, it doesn't add up.

There's also the distance. Leila's dad has just turned 80. Her parents are selling her forever home - the house she lived in for 30 years. If something goes wrong, she needs to be able to get back quickly. From Spain, that's a 2.5-hour flight. From Thailand, it's 12 hours and £800. That peace of mind matters more than you think it will.

We called off the Thailand plan. Tried to feel content with where we were. That lasted about a week before we admitted we were lying to ourselves.

How It Actually Happened

We'd put the house on the market. Four viewings in as many months. We'd overpriced it, but we needed a certain amount to make the plan work: sell up, make £150,000, buy a two-bed flat somewhere outright, no mortgage hanging over us, and travel when we want. The flat would just be somewhere to keep our stuff and come back to - a sense of security for Leila, because last time the hardest part was having nowhere to belong.

While it wasn't selling, we listed it on Airbnb almost as an experiment. The requests came in quickly. Some for months, some for a year. We accepted a two-month stay and said right, this is it.

Norway was the turning point. We went for a week in February and coming back we just felt so much healthier. The fresh water, the air, being away from where we were. We landed at Gatwick and looked at each other and knew we couldn't go back to the same life. A long-stay request popped up on Airbnb for our place, and we took it.

Initially we agreed to 30 days. Then the more we thought about it - why would we want to come back? The guests extended. We extended. Now we're looking at being away until at least October. Both sets of families are planning to come visit us wherever we are, and we'll pop back to the UK when we need to.

Why Benidorm First

Benidorm has a terrible reputation and we know it. But this isn't a holiday - it's a test. We need to know if living in an apartment with Tallulah actually works, because we've never done it. We did the travelling lifestyle as a couple. This is different.

We chose Benidorm because it ticks every practical box for a first go: close to the UK (2.5 hours), English speakers everywhere (less stressful with a baby while we acclimatise), warm in March while the UK is still grey, and cheap enough that if it goes wrong, we haven't blown the budget.

We chose the Poniente end deliberately - the opposite side to the stag dos. It's still Benidorm, but the beach is quieter, the promenade is flat and buggy-friendly, and the restaurants lean more Spanish than British.

Finding the right apartment was harder than expected. We needed two bedrooms (so Tallulah has her own room and we can work while she sleeps), a gym, a communal playroom, a sea view, walkable to shops and the beach, no car needed. It took a lot of scrolling. We found one on the 18th floor - a luxury apartment that we could actually see ourselves living in. It's €2,754 for a month, which is double our mortgage. But we're not testing whether we can do this cheaply - we're testing whether we want this life at all. The budget will come down once we know.

What We Actually Want

What Worries Us

We worry about completely different things. That's probably normal for any couple doing this, but it's worth being honest about because if you're reading this and thinking about doing something similar, you're probably having the same arguments.

The Practical Stuff

Financially, the Airbnb rental of our cottage covers the mortgage (which is at 7.4% - don't ask), all the bills, and a bit towards our expenses. After tax it's not as much as it sounds, but it means we're not haemorrhaging money by being away. The Benidorm apartment is the "extra" cost, and we've deliberately spent more on the first month to test what living somewhere actually good feels like. Future months will be cheaper as we find our rhythm.

Packing: two suitcases. One for Liam and Leila, one for Tallulah. A travel cot. Essentials for the flight. We learned from 10 months of travelling - we even took a blender with us last time because we were that into our fitness. Left it in Vietnam along with most of our wardrobe. Tallulah outgrows her clothes so fast we'll just buy cheap stuff at the Benidorm markets that run twice a week.

Work setup: Liam has a portable screen for his laptop and is setting up remote access to his PC at home. It's not three monitors, but it's workable. A balcony with a sea view is a decent compromise.

Tallulah's been taken out of nursery. Her spot is held if we come back. We don't think we will.

The Backup Plan

This isn't all or nothing. The house is still there. It's still on the market (though we're in no rush now). If this goes badly - if we hate it, if the work doesn't work, if Tallulah's miserable - we come back. We might even Airbnb different places around the UK to test whether it's the country that's the problem or just the village. Liverpool, Southampton, Devon - who knows.

What's Next

After Benidorm we need to work out the 90-day Schengen rule. 90 days in Europe, then 90 days out. Turkey, Bulgaria, Cyprus, maybe Dubai for a month - those are the current options for the non-Schengen window. We'd love to find somewhere we fall in love with and think "that's where we want to be" and go for a proper visa. But for now it's one month at a time, seeing what works.

The one thing we know for certain: we don't want to spend another winter in the UK.

This Isn't an Influencer Thing

We're not quitting our jobs. We're not selling the house. We're not pretending this is some brave act of freedom. We're two parents who are bored and cold and want to try something different while our daughter is young enough that school isn't a factor.

We'll link to things we genuinely use. If you buy through those links we earn a tiny commission. But we're not going to recommend something because the affiliate rate is good. If it's on this site, we bought it and used it.

Honestly, we don't expect anyone to read this. AI answers your Google questions now and social media favours people who dance on camera. We're not going to dance on camera. We're writing this because it's true, and because in ten years Tallulah might want to know why her parents dragged her around Europe as a baby.

We're hoping the inspiration of being somewhere new might make us work harder and build something. Because right now, back home, it's desperation rather than inspiration. We're running from where we are rather than towards something. Maybe that changes once we land.