The post I didn't want to write…
On packing bags and setting off for new adventures - from sobbing in the Baltic to supermarket meltdowns, swimmy heads, heartbreak and finding home
I’ve been putting off writing this for the longest time - because somehow, by not putting it into words, I could pretend it wasn’t really happening. But here I am, after almost 12 years in Denmark, returning to the UK.
It’s both a heartbreaking and healing moment - a decision driven by family and work commitments. It feels enormous. Overwhelming. And strangely surreal.
Leaving Denmark has been one of the hardest decisions of my life. It’s counterintuitive to walk away from a life that’s been so good - filled with warmth and meaning. Saying goodbye to the community we’ve built and the friends who’ve become like family, feels like leaving pieces of my heart behind. Denmark’s vast, clear, expanse of open sky (when it’s not tipping it down with rain) is a sight to make even the most cynical of souls surge with joy and I miss it already. It’s the small things, too: the familiar clinking of bicycles on the street, the crisp morning air and the bracing waters of Vejle fjord, the rhythm of a life that’s been mine for more than a decade.
I still remember that first morning when I flew into Billund in the middle of winter almost 12 years ago. I left London as a carefree, child-free woman. Wild-eyes, anxious and clutching my coat tightly against the Danish cold. I had no idea what awaited me. At the time, I thought we’d be in Denmark for a year, tops. But Jutland, with its endless skies and wide, flat farmland, surprised me. Denmark surprised me.
Okay, so admittedly, it confused me first of all. Why was everyone so happy despite the lack of sunlight?! How could anyone be happy without bathtubs as standard in Danish homes? How was I supposed to get served in a bakery? And what was with all the ryebread? I learned the hard way that Danes don’t do small-talk, but when they do talk, they mean it. I also quickly discovered that life moves at a different pace - a slower, steadier one. It was a pace I hadn’t realised I needed.
Denmark has been the backdrop to many of my life’s biggest moments. I had all three of my children in Jutland - each one born into the Danish healthcare system that, to this day, leaves me in awe. Denmark is the only home the mini-Vikings have ever known. My twins, in fact, have only been to England once before. For us, ‘holiday’ always meant piling into the car or onto a train and exploring the Nordic region. Summers were spent exploring the Danish islands, or in rudimentary huts on a Swedish lake, with winters spent up Norwegian mountains or just at home, getting hygge.
Denmark has been more than just a place to live—it has been a home in the truest sense, the place where I became a mother and a writer of books (six of them in fact). It’s the place where I found my voice. And it’s where I discovered what it means to live intentionally - and internationally.
I haven’t just been living Danishly - I’ve dedicated a decade of my professional life to researching into Nordic culture. I’ve travelled far and wide, interviewing hundreds of academics, politicians, psychologists, sociologists, historians and all manner of interesting people about what makes the Nordic countries so special (as well as where they fall short).
Denmark has taught me more than I could have imagined when I first arrived. From the work-life balance I’ve been lucky enough to experience, to the art of hygge, to the deep sense of trust that runs through Nordic society. Living Danishly has not just shaped my worldview, but also how I parent, how I work, and how I live my daily life - from progressive approaches to child-rearing to a sense of community I had never experienced before. These are lessons I’ll carry with me always. And I am incredibly grateful to Denmark and its people for embracing me so wholeheartedly.
So it’s a strange feeling - packing a bag and heading towards the departure gate with my children (dog and husband to follow along with furniture, we hope…). It’s disorientating, leaving a place that’s come to define so much of who you are.
I’ve cycled through many emotions in the past few weeks and months – from a numbness and a swimmy, underwater feeling to something I can only equate with sleep deprivation or being utterly inebriated. There have been times when I have broken into full-blown sobs - paddling in the Baltic, in the supermarket, on the motorway, you name it. Then there was the time when a small Danish girl asked innocently: ‘Why do you want to leave?’ and I could only gulp a response. Or the time two of my best friends were sobbing in my arms and I couldn’t muster a single tear. Not one. Not even an eye-brim. I don’t think that there were any tears left. So I just stood there, like a robot afraid of rust. Silently chastising myself (‘What is WRONG with you, Helen? NOW is the time: just bloody cry!’).
It has taken until now to feel grounded enough – at peace with the very difficult decision, even – to write this. To you. Now.
Coming back to the UK after all this time means I’m seeing my home country with fresh eyes. And you know what? It’s not terrible. Despite what rolling news would have us believe.
I’ll never ‘unlearn’ the Danish way of life - nor would I want to. But maybe, just maybe, the lessons I’ve absorbed in Denmark can blend into my life in the UK, creating something new and equally rich. My time away has allowed me to see my home country from afar, and that distance has been instructive.
As much as I love Denmark, I’ve also come to appreciate the UK in new ways. The two countries couldn’t be more different, and yet both are places I’ve called home. Now, as I prepare to return, I find myself looking forward to blending the best of both worlds.
There’s something healing about the familiar. I’ll be reconnecting with family and friends I’ve missed, rediscovering old haunts, and soaking up the quirks that make the UK, well, the UK. But I’m also bringing Denmark back with me.
Because I may be moving, but the Danish values, sense of balance and appreciation for well-being have been woven into the fabric of who I am now.
I’ve loved raising my children in Denmark, a place where childhood is protected fiercely, and where children are given the space to simply be. There’s a magic in how Danish culture prioritises well-being over achievement, how the pressure to perform is dialled down, and how playtime is seen as vital for development. Just a few of the reasons I’m determined to bring that Danish parenting philosophy with me.
I'll be continuing my campaign for a more Nordic approach to child-rearing in the UK—because the Danish model works. Children thrive when they are given space to be themselves and when society supports families in meaningful ways.
Childcare pays for itself (let’s get t-shirts printed!).
I’ll be championing this in my new chapter back home and I'll be doing my best to put into practice aspects of living Danishly in the UK—because once you've experienced a more balanced, fulfilling way of life, it's impossible not to.
I hope you'll all join me in this journey - to keep finding ways to infuse the best of the Nordic mindset into our everyday lives, wherever we are. Because that’s the challenge.
It’s easier to be happy in the Nordic - where many of the reasons for unhappiness are removed or at least lessened. The true task – the epic, unprecedented quest - comes now: when I see if I can implement all I’ve learnt in the ‘real world’. Outside of the Nordic bubble.
From how to survive winter to bringing hygge home to Danish work-life balance hacks (plus why arbejdsglæde works). From sustainable living made simple to finding calm in the chaos, how Danish samfundssind builds stronger social connections, friluftsliv, mud and mayhem – I’ll be sharing practical advice and actionable steps that we can steal from the Nordic approach. Finding out firsthand what’s transferable, what isn’t, where it works and where I fail horribly and incur huge therapy bills for future-me/my children/the dog.
Denmark will always have a special place in my heart. I’ll be back regularly for work and to visit the incredible friends I’ve made there (Copenhagen, I’ll see you next week!). So this isn’t goodbye; it’s simply vi ses senere (or ‘see you later!’). Thank you for joining me on this wild ride. Let’s see what happens next…
Helen x
PS: Did you know that if you tap heart, re-stack (that’s the recycle symbol below) or comment, it makes a huge difference and helps others to see this post? Go on…!
I moved from london to Vejle in 2015, and shortly after read ‘The Year of Living Danishly’. I loved it and was thrilled to spot clues in the book that it was the Vejle area you had settled in! Since then, as a Brit living in Denmark, I have enjoyed following you and your successes both as an author and a parent. I moved back to London in 2021 and also felt conflicted about it, but have absolutely found that the joys of Nordic living can be applied here. I hope you and your family find a beautiful new rhythm. And I don’t necessarily agree that you need to be outside london to do that - after all, as much as I loved the slower pace of Danish living, I’ve found that living in zone 2 has brought the best balance of city excitement and culture and village-y community/park greenery. Good luck with the next chapter!
I’ve loved reading about your life in Denmark and I cite you regularly (most recently when my five year old was complaining about having to do “so much writing” at school, and I bemoaned why they have to spend so much time sitting at tables indoors in order to learn). I love that the UK’s “not terrible”. You should offer that as a slogan to the Tourist Board! Welcome home Helen 🙂