most asked questions about British life

When I first moved to England, I couldn’t recognise British coins just by looking at them. I’d stand in the morning bus queue, reading each coin while everyone tried to get to work, because I needed nearly the right change for my ticket. I hated it. Why would I already know coins I couldn’t use in Canada?

When my questions-and-answers video was published in April 2025, I’d lived in the UK for nine years. Buying a bus ticket on my phone had made that particular problem much easier, but getting used to life here wasn’t a single finished job. Some things had become ordinary without me noticing, and other things were still difficult.

The bus became much less stressful

In my first years here, the buses I took in Kent expected cash and close to exact change. My understanding, or the explanation I was given, was that drivers had very little change to give people, which didn’t make it any easier while I was learning what the coins looked like. I’m describing my routes and my experience, because it wasn’t necessarily the same everywhere.

By the time of that video, I could buy my ticket in an app, keep it on my phone and show it to the driver. I used my phone for train tickets too, scanning them at the station barriers. No printing and no holding up the bus while I inspected a handful of coins. I was very grateful for that change.

Public transport itself had been a big adjustment. Back in Canada, I’d used it perhaps four times, mainly taking a train into Toronto for an event or concert. Most of the time I walked or drove. Even getting to my part-time job in high school meant arranging a lift or driving myself, because a bus wasn’t an option for me.

Reserved doesn’t necessarily mean snobbish

I live in Kent, so my experience is mainly with people in the south. I initially read some of that reserve as snobbishness, but after years here I saw it differently. Often, I think people simply don’t want to bother you. They want to be polite, which can mean keeping a little distance.

Going back to Canada still surprised me. Once, a woman in a shop queue started a proper, in-depth conversation with me rather than a little polite chat about the weather. On another trip, my partner and I signed up for a gym’s discounted week trial, and an older man there started chatting to us. We had a lovely conversation.

People from northern England tell me that happens there all the time, so I wouldn’t present my experience as a verdict on every British person. I like both approaches in their own way. I do find it harder to make connections where people are more reserved, though, and spontaneous conversations with strangers haven’t happened as often for me here.

Working from home since lockdown has made meeting people harder as well. I spend my working days with the camera, computer and house, so the opportunities have become smaller. I can’t blame all of that on British culture. Nobody is going to discover me sitting at home, and I think I have to push myself to get out more.

Familiar accents stopped standing out

When I first arrived, everybody sounded strange to me and it felt a bit like being in a movie. Nine years later, my English partner’s voice didn’t register as an accent in the same way anymore. Neither did the voices of friends and people I heard regularly in my community.

I didn’t know when that changed. I only noticed an accent when it was a voice I didn’t usually hear, such as a woman with a northern accent talking to her children in a park, or a man with a Scottish accent at the post office. I couldn’t tell you exactly where either accent came from, but both stood out against my everyday conversations.

I still didn’t enjoy either weather extreme

I was pleased to have four distinct seasons, but winter was still not my favourite. I found the darkness and wet weather difficult, sometimes even worse for me than Canadian winter. Canada had more snow to deal with, but it also felt brighter to me.

Summer was a different problem. I’d spent my life with air conditioning at home and work, and I hadn’t realised how much I relied on it. In my old flat, there were days when I sat editing upstairs with sweat falling onto the chair. During some heatwaves, I’d soaked a tea towel in cold water and put it around my neck and shoulders while I worked.

I had got more used to it, but I still struggled. That was my honest answer after nine years. I could feel at home here, stop noticing familiar accents and learn to read someone’s reserve more generously, while still being very pleased that I no longer had to count coins in the bus queue.

Watch my answers to questions about life in Britain after nine years.