Renae Wąsik was fed up with the UK’s grey skies and spiralling cost of living
Renae Wąsik with Pawel and Rocca(Image: renaesmithmc/Cover Images)
When the sodden winters, soaring costs and relentless gloom of British existence finally overwhelmed her, Renae Wąsik realised she’d reached breaking point. “I felt like I was going crazy,” reveals 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.”
Therefore, in November 2025, Renae and her partner Pawel decided jointly to abandon their existence in Welwyn Garden City, Hertfordshire, relocating with their two-year-old daughter, Rocca, to an obscure village unknown to most Britons: Vasiliki, situated on the Greek island of Lefkada, nestled between Corfu and Kefalonia. Within months, she claims the transformation has been 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 cultivated a thriving career spanning more than 20 years and frequently documents her fresh lifestyle on TikTok, where her content has accumulated more than half a million likes, though not everyone has celebrated her relocation. Whilst certain followers fantasise about emulating her journey, others have branded her ‘privileged’, ‘out of touch’, or even accused her of ‘stealing housing from locals’.
Renae refuses to accept such criticism. “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 also rejects the notion that she’s taking more than she contributes. “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 emotional transformation, she reveals, was instantaneous. “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 portrays 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 adds.
Renae is keen to emphasise 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.”
One surprising element that also swayed her choice to quit Britain was a series of utterly exasperating encounters with the NHS, which eventually drove her to pursue treatment overseas. “I’ve had some useless experiences,” she says bluntly.
“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 to be taken out, even offering to pay, 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 says. “It was insane.”
Instead, she travelled to Turkey, where a consultant found both implants were faulty. “I was lucky I went,” she says.
“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 are genuinely welcomed. “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 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 sociable. “We cook early, eat around 5pm, maybe take a walk or read. It’s relaxed and peaceful.”
And this isn’t just a short-term experiment. “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.”
From late March onwards, the family will settle into a two-bedroom property for €500 (£430) monthly, within easy reach of ferries, beaches, a marina and freshly caught seafood, 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 Britain for work commitments and visits with her two older daughters, aged 22 and 23, but the UK is no longer where she calls home. “I’ll always come back,” she says. “But this, this is where we’re building our life.”
And for those observing from a dreary British settee, questioning whether it’s achievable? “I’m not saying everyone should do it,” she says. “I’m saying I did, and I’m finally happy.”