The Dream of England: Highs and Lows
The Flight for a Dream
I’ve always dreamed of living in England. To me, it seemed like a place where dreams come true, where anyone can succeed if they put in the effort. For years, I saved money, studied English, and imagined starting a new life. Finally, I—let’s call me Emily—bought a ticket and flew to London. My suitcase held not just my belongings but also my hopes for a bright future. I was certain that ahead of me lay a job, new friendships, and opportunities I’d only ever fantasised about.
Before leaving, I said goodbye to my family, especially my brother—let’s call him James. He was the only one who supported me despite the doubts of the rest of our relatives. “If anything happens, I’m here,” he said, hugging me at the airport. At the time, I didn’t realise those words would become my lifeline.
The First Disappointment
England greeted me with noise, bright lights, and an endless stream of people. The first few days, I was in awe—skyscrapers, cafés, street performers—everything felt like a fairy tale. I rented a small room in Croydon and started job hunting. My background was in marketing, and I was sure I’d find work quickly. But reality was harsh. Employers demanded UK experience, which I didn’t have, or offered poorly paid positions like waitressing or cleaning.
After a month, my savings began to vanish. Rent swallowed most of my money, and a temporary gig at a café barely covered food. I felt my dream crumbling. Instead of success, I was met with loneliness and doubt. Sitting in my tiny room each evening, I wondered: had I made a mistake leaving everything for this dream?
Crisis and Despair
By the third month, I was at breaking point. No marketing job had come through, and my temporary earnings weren’t enough for even basic needs. I was too proud to tell my family, but one day, I cracked and called James. Tears streamed as I confessed I wasn’t coping. I expected him to say, “Come home,” but instead he listened calmly and said, “Emily, you’re strong. Let’s figure this out.”
James suggested I move to him in Manchester. He’d lived there for years, working in tech, and was ready to help. At first, I refused—I didn’t want to be a burden. But he insisted, saying family was there to support each other. In the end, I packed my bags and flew to him.
A Fresh Start with My Brother’s Help
Manchester welcomed me with drizzle and a different energy. James lived in a small but cosy flat. He gave me a room and helped me get settled. Through his connections, he found me temp work in an office where I could use my marketing skills. It wasn’t my dream job, but it was progress. Slowly, I regained confidence—and, most importantly, realised I wasn’t alone.
James wasn’t just my brother but my saviour. He gave me a roof over my head, helped with my CV, introduced me to people at his company, and even paid for courses to boost my skills. Evenings were spent talking—my plans, his life, the importance of not giving up. He reminded me that setbacks are part of the journey, not the end of the dream.
Lessons and Hope for the Future
Six months later, I was back on my feet. The temp job became permanent, and I could even afford my own place. England no longer felt like an impossible dream—it was my reality, full of challenges but also chances. Without James, I might have given up and gone home. His faith in me kept me going.
Looking back now, I’m grateful for the experience. It taught me to value family and to accept that dreams take time. I’m still on the path, but I’m no longer afraid of the hurdles. And James remains my biggest inspiration, reminding me that even if a dream falls apart, you can always build a new one.
