— A Tale of Green Fields, Fewer Humans, and Surprisingly Good Wi-Fi
There comes a moment in every Londoner’s life — somewhere between the third rent increase and the seventh delayed train — when they find themselves staring out of a steamed-up window and whispering:
“What if I just moved to a place with more sheep than Pret A Mangers?”
This is not madness. This is clarity. The sort that only descends when you’ve spent too long surrounded by honking, grey buildings, and passive-aggressive queueing.
If you’ve ever googled “moving out of London” while stress-eating a falafel wrap the size of your arm, this guide is for you.
Forget the Commuter Belt. We’re Headed for the Cow Belt. And what to do if you need storage with your move.
There are places — odd, magical places — in this ancient soggy island where:
- You can see actual stars.
- The locals still wave at strangers, unless they mistake you for a Londoner.
- Houses cost less than the price of a second-hand Hackney parking space.
- And if you listen carefully, the hills whisper things like, “You can have a garden, Susan. A garden…”
This guide isn’t about being “within 45 minutes of Paddington”. This is about moving somewhere properly remote, possibly where the postman only comes twice a week and the sheep have names and vendettas.
Who Should Read This?
- Families who want their kids to grow up knowing that “screen time” is what happens when you put a sieve over a torch.
- Entrepreneurs and remote workers who dream of emailing from a moss-covered cottage that definitely isn’t haunted.
- Disillusioned city dwellers who want to wake up to birdsong, not bin lorries playing techno at 6 a.m.
If the idea of living somewhere without Deliveroo fills you with dread, turn back now. This is not your path. But if you’ve ever shouted, “I will live in a field before I pay this much council tax!” — keep reading.
Criteria for Selection: Brutally Honest and Mildly Biased
We selected these locations based on:
- Natural beauty (read: might contain witches, or at least suspicious-looking hedges)
- Remoteness (mobile signal not guaranteed)
- Community charm (i.e., the local shop stocks both fresh eggs and unsolicited gossip)
- Broadband (yes, even hobbits need fibre-optic now)
This is a list inspired by the kinds of places you’d see in Rad Removals photos — green, quiet, possibly damp, and oddly cinematic.
1. Hay-on-Wye, Wales – For When You Want to Be Left Alone, But With Literature
If you’ve ever dreamed of vanishing into the mist and reappearing only to quote obscure Victorian poets, Hay-on-Wye is your spirit town. Tucked on the border between Wales and Herefordshire, this is a place where even the lamp posts seem well-read.
Population: Fewer than a mid-sized London Wetherspoons on a Friday night.
Shops: Roughly 25 bookshops. One pub that smells of ghosts and gravy.
Vibe: Imagine a National Trust gift shop was granted autonomy and developed a quirky personality.
Hay-on-Wye is perfect for:
- Reclusive writers
- Readers who believe fiction should be dusty
- Families who want their children to grow up thinking second-hand books are a form of currency (and in Hay, they are)
You won’t find much in the way of nightclubs here — unless your idea of a wild night is discovering a signed copy of a 1923 beekeeping manual. The town hosts the Hay Festival, which is like Glastonbury for people who consider punctuation erotic.
And the countryside? Picture rolling green hills, winding rivers, and the occasional ruin that may or may not be haunted by a former librarian. There are hikes that start behind bookshops and end in pubs where the bar staff know your order and your dog’s name.
Remote Factor: Strong. You’re far enough from city nonsense to forget what a parking ticket is.
Internet: Surprisingly fast — because even in a literary paradise, someone still needs to upload their novel.
Downside: You will begin to judge people based on the spine condition of their Penguin Classics.
2. Alnwick, Northumberland – Where Castles Outnumber Coffee Chains
Pronounced “Ann-ick” (because of course it is), this northern gem is so picturesque it makes postcards jealous. Alnwick is a place where the streets whisper stories and the local castle is more famous than most minor royals.
Population: Friendly enough to say hello. Small enough to notice when you’re new.
Claim to Fame: Alnwick Castle doubled as Hogwarts. You can literally learn to fly on a broomstick here.
Vibe: Medieval but with broadband and a strong sense of passive-aggressive neighbourly competition over garden gnomes.
Ideal for:
- Families who want to raise dragon-obsessed children
- Entrepreneurs with a taste for cobblestones and cobwebs
- Retired knights
The coast is close. The moors are closer. And the weather? Let’s call it “atmospheric.” If you enjoy dramatic clouds and the kind of rain that feels poetic rather than personal, you’ll be very happy here.
Remote Factor: Moderate to strong — London feels like another country (which, to be fair, it sort of is).
Internet: Good enough for Zoom. Bad enough for excuses.
Downside: You will buy tweed.
Coming up next: Strathpeffer, a Highland spa town for those who want misty mornings and the possibility of befriending a stag named Colin.
Want to continue into the Scottish Highlands next, or detour into Cornwall or Somerset first based on the photos you have?
3. Strathpeffer, Scottish Highlands – For When You Want to Live in a Victorian Spa Town with Occasional Ghosts
Strathpeffer (yes, that’s a real place and not something made up by a tipsy gnome) is nestled in the Highlands of Scotland, surrounded by pine forests, brooding hills, and people who can probably survive a winter using only a sporran and determination.
Once a Victorian spa destination, now a haven for the sort of person who owns more books on herbal tea than people, Strathpeffer is ideal if you:
- Want your daily walk to pass ancient Pictish stones
- Enjoy misty mornings where time forgets to move forward
- Secretly believe your house should come with a ghost that smells of lavender and regret
Population: Small. Intimate. Think village fête, but everyone knows your dog’s birthday.
Community: Equal parts retirees, hikers, artists, and people who have definitely fought a badger.
Weather: Brisk. Atmospheric. If you don’t name your storms, the locals will do it for you.
There’s a charm here that comes from the landscape being aggressively beautiful. Mountains loom. Rivers babble. And sometimes, if you listen closely, you can hear your mobile signal giving up entirely.
Remote Factor: High. You’ll feel like a Tolkien character by day three.
Internet: Surprisingly okay. The ghost of Alexander Graham Bell is probably maintaining it.
Downside: You may start foraging. You may never stop.
4. St Agnes, Cornwall – For the Hippie Who Grew Up and Got a Mortgage
Ah, Cornwall. Land of pasties, pirates, and property prices that somehow still include ocean views. But not all of Cornwall is overrun with posh surfers and Londoners in Barbour jackets. St Agnes is the rugged, moody cousin — less cutesy, more wild-hearted.
Perched on the cliffs with a view of the Atlantic that’ll slap you in the face with its majesty, St Agnes is:
- Windswept, artsy, and a little bit rebellious
- Full of vintage shops, sea shanty singers, and one goat that everyone knows
- The sort of place where a Tuesday morning walk might turn into a life re-evaluation
Population: Salt-of-the-earth types with impressive beards (men and women, depending on the wind).
Vibe: Smells faintly of seaweed and freedom.
Community: You’ll either be baking sourdough within two weeks or run out of town for suggesting Starbucks.
Remote Factor: Medium. Still reachable, but don’t expect same-day Amazon.
Internet: Good enough to stream obscure documentaries about plankton.
Downside: You will accidentally become a ceramist.
5. Talybont-on-Usk, Wales – For Wild Swim Enthusiasts and Off-Grid Dreamers
Imagine living somewhere that sounds like a sneeze but looks like a fairy tale. Welcome to Talybont-on-Usk, a Brecon Beacons gem where people still say “good morning” without expecting something in return.
Here, you can:
- Wild swim before breakfast
- Hike through ancient woodlands before lunch
- Eat cake the size of your face at the village café and pretend it was all for the steps
Population: Tiny but mighty.
Vibe: Blissful and slightly damp.
Entertainment: Involves ducks, storms, and the pub quiz every other Thursday (unless there’s a sheep auction).
Remote Factor: Medium-high. You’ll need a car, a raincoat, and patience.
Internet: Reasonable — powered by hopes and nearby power lines.
Downside: You will stop wearing shoes indoors. Possibly outdoors too.
6: Isle of Wight – For When You Want to Escape… But Still Technically Be in England
The Isle of Wight is what happens when a postcard retires. It’s all chalk cliffs, smugglers’ coves, and the kind of slightly surreal Englishness that feels like a fever dream narrated by Stephen Fry.
Accessible only by ferry (which makes it feel very dramatic), it’s ideal for:
- Writers, musicians, or eccentric uncles
- Families who want seaside life without punchy Brighton prices
- Anyone who wants to live somewhere where time moves differently — possibly backwards in some parts
Population: Civilised but suspicious of newcomers until you’ve proven you own a decent hat.
Vibe: Like a sleepy English tea shop had a baby with a geology textbook.
Community: Pubs, potlucks, and people who definitely remember the 1970s, even if you weren’t there.
Remote Factor: Faux-remote. You’re isolated… but in a charming, ferry-schedule-dependent way.
Internet: Strong, unless you anger the gods of coastal bandwidth.
Downside: You may start calling it “The Island” unironically.
7. Halpston – The Town That Time Misplaced (And Never Bothered to Retrieve)
Tucked somewhere between a crooked river and a hill that insists on being called “The Old One,” Halpston is the sort of place that doesn’t appear on maps until you’ve already arrived. It’s quiet — not in the peaceful way, but in the “are we sure the clocks are still working?” way.
Population: Approximately 500 humans, 800 sheep, and one ex-magician who now runs the bakery.
Vibe: If a postcard from 1952 came to life and learned to make chutney.
Notable Attractions: A church with no roof (on purpose), a bookshop that doesn’t stock anything printed after 1974, and a post office that’s also a pub. Possibly a time portal.
Ideal for:
- Families seeking wholesome school runs and rogue goats
- Writers who thrive on eerie stillness
- People who want to live somewhere that feels like the beginning of a strange novel
Remote Factor: High. Sat-navs often panic and suggest you turn back.
Internet: Surprisingly solid (the ex-magician fixed it).
Downside: You may lose track of modern life. Whether that’s a problem is entirely up to you.
So, Where Should You Flee To?
At this point, you might be sitting in your overpriced, overheated London flat, wondering whether it’s time to swap the symphony of sirens for the rustle of hedgerows and suspicious owl hoots.
Let us make this clear: yes.
If the idea of knowing your neighbours and their chickens doesn’t fill you with dread… if you dream of fields that stretch on forever and stars that actually show up at night… then your time has come.
But choose wisely, dear reader.
- If you want to hide in a book and only emerge for cider and poetry readings: Hay-on-Wye will cradle you in paperback bliss.
- If you want your home to come with ramparts, broomsticks, and the scent of medieval damp: Alnwick awaits.
- If your soul needs mist, mountains, and a solid excuse to wear tartan daily: Strathpeffer will embrace you like a friendly ghost.
- If you’re drawn to sea spray, artistic chaos, and dramatic cliffs: St Agnes has room in its soul (and probably a shed you can convert).
- If ducks, rivers, and muddy boots make your heart sing: Talybont-on-Usk has a cottage with your name on it.
- And if you want to be remote… but still near enough to mainland plumbing and Greggs: the Isle of Wight offers ferry rides, folklore, and the feeling that you’ve left reality behind (just a little).
A Note from the Moving Men
Here at Rad Removals, we’ve packed boxes in both tower blocks and thatched cottages. We’ve dodged London traffic and cows with the same stoic professionalism. So wherever your next chapter lies — whether it’s on a windy cliffside or next to a suspiciously quiet lake — we’re here to help you get there.
We won’t judge your reasons.
We won’t question your need for twelve vintage footstools and a life-size ceramic heron.
We will just turn up, wrap your belongings like precious relics, and help you escape into the green.
