We’d watched the TV shows and knew the rural idyll could be anything but. Yet my MS was making me a prisoner in my own home
Tue 20 Aug 2019 13.00 BST
Last modified on Tue 20 Aug 2019 13.07 BST
When Julie, my wife, was made redundant from her executive assistant job a couple of years ago, we decided to up sticks and leave London for our own rural idyll in Devon. We knew it would require a lot of planning and expenditure – I’m disabled and rely on a wheelchair to get around because of multiple sclerosis – and we were aware we’d be leaving our support network, but, nine months on, we don’t regret going west one bit.
I’ve always loved London – its diversity and vibrancy is unlike any other city I’ve visited. It was where I was born and where I have lived for the past 30 years. And it’s where I met Julie. I had a rewarding job at a local disabled charity helping people get welfare benefits, but rising rents and globalisation altered the community ethos. People moved out and local businesses closed, and the charity cut back. I left my job to become a writer working from home: a small, one-bed housing association flat, which had been adapted for a wheelchair.
Julie was fast becoming my full-time carer. It sooned dawned on us we needed a better lifestyle
The flat offered a secured tenancy, even if the lift did break down a lot (we lived on the first floor). However, it was becoming like a prison cell as I was not able to get out so much so I was getting little sunshine or fresh air. In turn, my MS worsened as I lost strength in my arms and battled daily fatigue. Julie continued to work full-time but was also fast becoming my full-time carer, and it wasn’t long before it dawned on us that we needed a better lifestyle. We’d often watch TV shows like Escape to the Country, and dream of sea walks and starlit skies, but we knew the grass wasn’t always greener on the other side. People often failed to adjust to their new environments and sold up, returning to their city lives. Although our flat had its drawbacks, we were lucky to have it, and didn’t have enough money to move. However, that changed when Julie was made redundant from the company she had worked at for 15 years. It ended up being a blessing in disguise, as itgave us the finances and opportunity to begin the next part of our journey.
For many disabled people, moving home is a pipe dream. Suitable accommodation in social housing for people in wheelchairs is rarely available and the costs of moving can be astronomical. Grants are available to make homes accessible but are often means-tested, so we knew we would not be eligible. However, we would be mortgage-free if we could find the right place in the right area. We were drawn to the Exeter region. My parents had moved there in the early 1980s – it was Mum’s birthtown, and always close to my heart, having met some of my best mates at college in the city before we all gravitated to London.
Exeter has been transformed since then, becoming a new “Silicon Valley”, so job prospects for Julie were good and I was hopeful of helping out with local charities – it ticked all the boxes. Devon isn’t exactly flat, but Exeter has pedestrianised many areas, so it’s wheelchair-friendly. There are also new cycleways that offer me a sense of freedom while exercising on my hand-cycle, taking in the breathtaking views and giving Lolo, our dog, a better life too. We only visited one property: a bungalow in Exminster that sits close to the banks of the estuary with a view to die for. We bought it after the first viewing.
The move wasn’t cheap as we had to make the property fully accessible. However, transfer of my medical records was seamless and adult social care has provided a hoist to make things easier for both of us. It’s a different way of life, and we both feel its benefits. Sleep comes easily, we’ve got room to move, and we look forward to those summer sunsets. Julie’s got a part-time job 10 minutes away, and I’m producing a video for an MS charity. I’ll miss my friends and family, but not London. It was good while it lasted, but I’d become institutionalised and had stopped enjoying it. When the chance to break out and return to the motherland came, it was an easy decision to make.
• James Coke is a writer. He blogs at thedisabledchef.com
