‘I was going crazy’ – family swaps ‘grey’ UK’s £3k bills for £690 Greek home

By the time the relentless rain-drenched winters, soaring household costs and perpetual gloom of life in Britain finally took their toll, Renae Wąsik realised she’d reached breaking point. “I felt like I was going crazy,” admits the 43-year-old PR executive.

“Grey skies make me feel sad, bleak and trapped. I didn’t want my baby growing up in that.”

So last November, Renae and her husband Pawel took the plunge, leaving behind their existence in Welwyn Garden City, Hertfordshire, and relocating with their two year old daughter, Rocca, to an obscure village unfamiliar to most Britons: Vasiliki, situated on the Greek island of Lefkada, nestled between Corfu and Kefalonia. Just months on, she describes the transformation as nothing short of revolutionary.

“In the UK, we were paying close to £3,000 a month just to live, that covered rent, council tax and utilities, for a suburban home with a tiny garden,” she explains. “It was wet, miserable and exhausting. Now we’re renting an off-season Airbnb for €800 (£690) a month, I can walk to the sea, and I wake up feeling free.”

Renae, who established The Atticism PR and Brand Development, has forged an impressive career spanning more than 20 years and frequently documents her Mediterranean adventure on TikTok, where her content has garnered more than half a million likes. Yet her decision hasn’t been universally celebrated.

While some followers fantasise about emulating her bold move, critics have branded her ‘privileged’, ‘out of touch’, or even accused her of ‘stealing housing from locals’. Renae firmly rejects such claims.

“People say it’s ‘not that easy’ to live and work overseas, and they’re right,” she explains. “It’s not easy. But it’s also not impossible. If it’s truly your goal, you’ll work for it. Nothing falls in your lap.”

She rejects claims that she’s simply taking advantage without giving back in return. “We’ve been really conscious about contributing,” she insists.

“I work in PR and I help get the island press exposure for free. Pawel is a painter and decorator and has been helping locals who are desperate for skilled labour. We’re living in an off-season Airbnb that sits empty all winter, and when we build our house, we’ll hire local trades. This isn’t a ‘take, take, take’ situation.”

The psychological transformation, she reveals, happened instantly. “The moment we arrived, my husband and I looked at each other and said, ‘Oh my God, we escaped’,” she recalled.

“The UK feels like a rat wheel. You work to live, and by the weekend you’re so exhausted you just want to order Deliveroo, which is so expensive you have to work even more. Here, the pressure just lifted.”

She characterises Britain as suffocating. “The sky feels low. Everything feels heavy. Here, I see the sea and sky every single day. There’s space. I feel calm. I can breathe again,” she states.

Renae is eager to stress that Greek island living isn’t some picture-perfect postcard fantasy. “If you’ve done Santorini or Mykonos and think that’s real life, you’re in for a shock,” she warns.

“It rains, a lot. There’s no food convenience. I’ve lost three kilos because I can’t just snack whenever I want. Sometimes I honestly can’t look at another courgette.”

But she shrugs. “I sacrifice convenience for peace.”

An unexpected element that also played a role in her choice to depart Britain was a series of profoundly exasperating encounters with the NHS, which eventually drove her to pursue surgery overseas. “I’ve had some useless experiences,” she states frankly.

“I was once told I might have breast cancer and then had to wait six weeks for a scan. Later, they said one of my breast implants had capsulated and they’d remove just one.”

When she requested both be taken out, even offering to cover the cost herself, she was turned down. “They said they’d take one out, sew me up, and I’d have to sort the other privately later,” she recalls. “It was insane.”

Instead, she travelled to Turkey, where a consultant discovered both implants were compromised. “I was lucky I went,” she reflects.

“The NHS has potential, but the system is chaotic. I’ve had blood tests lost, appointments messed up, they even accidentally deleted my daughter from the surgery system while she had a 40-degree fever and refused to see us. It’s just been a mess.”

For Rocca, the relocation has been life-changing. “The outdoors!” Renae beams.

“Sunshine, even in December. She’s not stuck inside watching TV, she’s climbing rocks, playing with water, exploring. And she’s seen here.”

In Greece, she explains, youngsters receive proper recognition. “In restaurants, staff greet her, make a fuss, talk to her. It took months for her to get used to it. In the UK, she was mostly ignored.”

Their daily routine now moves at a completely different rhythm. “We wake up without alarms. Coffee in bed. We work until lunchtime while Rocca plays outside painting or in her sandpit,” she explains.

“Lunch is simple, most days are spinach pies or salad. Then we explore: beaches, neighbouring towns, counting cats.”

The evenings are leisurely and convivial. “We cook early, eat around 5pm, maybe take a walk or read. It’s relaxed and peaceful.”

This isn’t merely a short-term escapade either. “Oh yes, this is forever,” Renae confirms.

“We’ve bought a 4,600-square-metre plot of land overlooking the sea for less than the price of a one-bedroom flat in Bedfordshire. We’ll build our home here.”

Starting late March, the family will settle into a two-bedroom property for €500 (£430) monthly, within easy reach of ferries, beaches, a marina and fresh fishing boats, complete with a balcony laden with orange, lemon and mandarin trees.

“Our neighbour gives us all the olive oil we need, and we’ll help him with the harvest,” she beams. “Everyone helps everyone. It’s a real community.”

Renae continues to return to the UK for professional commitments and visits with her two elder daughters, aged 22 and 23, though Britain no longer feels like home. “I’ll always come back,” she notes. “But this, this is where we’re building our life.”

And for those observing from a drab British settee, pondering the feasibility? “I’m not saying everyone should do it,” she asserts. “I’m saying I did, and I’m finally happy.”