We have been married so long and it turns out that after all these years he wants something entirely different from what I want. He wants to live in the country. Cor blimey. What possessed me to agree to such a ridiculous idea? If my cousin the priest had said: "Do you, Wifey, take him over there in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, up in the North and down in the South," I would have said: "Hang on a minute, a poverty stricken invalid's one thing…" I never, ever thought he would pack us all up and carry us away with him. I did not think he had it in him to make me leave London, still less for the Northern wastelands. Who wants to live up North? Northerners. But not me—I stopped being a Northerner a long time ago. I love London—it was where I wanted to be. He suffered it; he thinks we will move to Northumberland and life will be perfect. Life is never perfect.
—from Wife in the North