In our late 50s, my husband Jeff and I were living in a pleasant English village, juggling a demanding social-work career and a building-industry business. The usual questions of “more space?” or “another conservatory?” began to feel empty against the backdrop of mounting debt and the relentless hum of mortgage payments.
Ten years before we even thought of moving, we impulsively bought a piece of land in Bulgaria for £12,000. Both of us were fresh from painful divorces after 25-year marriages, and I was forced to rebuild my life at 45 following a financially draining split from a headteacher husband. The purchase was less a calculated investment and more a mid-life rebellion—an attempt to claim a slice of sunshine that had always lingered in our dreams.
The £12,000 bargain that sparked the adventure
When Jeff received a £12,000 redundancy payment, the logical advice would have been to chip away at our mortgage. Instead, we let the money guide us toward a venture that felt genuinely ours. We scanned the usual hotspots—France, Italy—only to hit price walls that were far beyond reach. Jeff’s father pointed us toward Bulgaria, fresh off its EU accession, where property values lingered at historic lows compared with neighbouring Romania.
Arriving with cash in a suitcase, we found a detached house surrounded by a set of outbuildings: a donkey shed, a barn, a chicken coop, a wash house and even a smoke house. The structure needed serious work, but Jeff’s experience in construction gave us confidence that we could restore it ourselves.
Renovating and falling in love with the Bulgarian village
For nine years we made the journey back and forth twice a year—one week devoted to repairs, the next to simply soaking in the countryside. Those trips turned the house from a fixer-upper into a genuine home and allowed us to embed ourselves in the rhythm of the village. The modest price, the generous land, and the hospitality of locals contrasted sharply with the relentless pressure of English life, where every extra pound felt like another chain.
Health, mortgage slavery and the final break from England
Nearly a decade after the Bulgarian purchase, my health began to falter: dangerously high blood pressure, worsening visual impairment and a workplace software change that rendered my essential tools unusable. Jeff’s building business also faced financial strain. One afternoon, while listening to a posthumous Tony Benn interview, his comment struck a chord: “If you have a mortgage, then you are a slave to that mortgage.” The words resonated with a lifetime of striving to keep a roof over my head—a goal my former husband had never shared.
With a sunny property already owned, the question became simple: why continue the grind in England? The answer was clear. We packed up, said goodbye to the village that had become our second home, and made the permanent move to Bulgaria, trading mortgage shackles for the freedom of a slower, healthier lifestyle.
