“Hello Love!” — The Story of a Hungarian Grandmother from the Easternmost Point of England

A Life Changed by More Than One Decision

As a 65-year-old grandmother who has lived in England for seventeen years, it is difficult to summarise briefly why I left Hungary. It was not one single reason that led me to move abroad, but a series of events that gradually built on one another until they made my life, and my family’s everyday life, impossible. Among the most important factors were the story of the housing mafia and an electricity bill of two and a half million forints — an amount that, at the time, was roughly equal to two years of my salary.

Author: Ildikó Szombati-Szabó

The Inherited House and the Beginning of Years of Litigation

The house where I lived with my family had been inherited from my great-grandparents. Half of it belonged to me, and the other half to my uncle, who lived in Sweden and had never intended to move back to Hungary.

With the help of the family support available at the time, we turned the simple village house into a modern, comfortable home. When the renovation was finished, my uncle came home for a visit and informed us that he had sold his half of the house. His only explanation was that, in his opinion, I was not a decent person. He never explained what he meant by that.

It soon became clear that half of our home had fallen into the hands of the housing mafia. This marked the beginning of years of legal battles.

The Bill That Forced a Final Decision

In 2008, the economic crisis alone would have been enough of a burden, but that was also the year when the electricity bill for two and a half million forints arrived. I had always paid the electricity bill on time; in fact, we regularly overpaid. At the end of each tax year, we would usually receive the remaining amount back, and that money often paid for our holidays.

In 2008, things happened differently.

I objected to the bill at the electricity company. Although they acknowledged that I had always paid on time, one of the employees made a remark suggesting that many consumers had unpaid debts, and someone had to pay for them. What followed was half a year of struggle with the company.

At that time, I had to cope with the everyday burdens alone: three children, work, household duties and college studies. After a while, I saw no way out other than giving up the life I had known until then.

I had already started asking for help from above when the thought grew stronger in me that I should look for work abroad.

At the end of October 2008, I applied through a Hungarian employment agency. By December, I had already had my first — and successful — job interview. At the end of January the following year, I arrived in the English seaside town where I have lived ever since.

A New Beginning in an English Seaside Town

I began working as an elderly care assistant. My children decided not to come with me, although they had the opportunity. They moved in with their father, and the electricity was disconnected in our house.

Originally, I planned to stay in England for only a few years. I thought I would get back on my feet financially and then move home. Looking back, however, I feel I was fortunate. In the meantime, my ex-husband received an inheritance, paid the two-and-a-half-million-forint electricity bill, and bought back the other half of our house from the weakened housing mafia.

I had studied English in secondary school, but I had graduated thirty years before moving to Britain. I could barely remember anything beyond irregular verbs. Understanding people was made even harder by the strong local accent of the elderly residents and the slang used by younger colleagues. I quickly realised that school English was very different from the language of everyday life.

The First Days: A Room, Paperwork and Official Offices

When I arrived, I reported to the address I had been given, where I also met my future and only Hungarian colleague. His English was better than mine. One of our administrative colleagues drove us to our accommodation.

My Hungarian colleague was placed in the men’s accommodation, where he received a room in a larger flat shared with six Polish colleagues. I was given a very narrow room in a smaller house. By Hungarian standards, it felt more like a large wardrobe than a room. We were also given two large bags of food and some bedding.

At work, we received our list of duties. There was an enormous amount of paperwork to complete, and my Hungarian colleague helped me with much of it. We had to buy English mobile phones, open bank accounts and obtain the local social security number, the National Insurance Number, or NINO.

People were helpful in every office. It was clear that they knew how to deal with newcomers who spoke little or no English. Telephone interpreting was also available: an interpreter explained the most important information and helped clarify our questions.

We still had to wait for the criminal record certificate. Those days passed painfully slowly. In the meantime, I began discovering the town that would later become my home. The Polish colleagues were helpful and told me that I could use the internet at the library. I registered there and began corresponding with my children, my ex-husband and my friends.

Language Learning, Work and Human Connections

Our workplace organised English classes for the employees. Many of the Polish colleagues could not even introduce themselves in English, but most of us were eventually placed in the advanced group. It was there that I met the Polish man with whom I would spend the next fifteen years of my life. He has since returned to Poland, where he now lives comfortably as a pensioner.

He also helped me settle in. It mattered a great deal that I was not alone.

When I lived in Hungary, I had travelled a lot, both with my children and on my own. We had seen half of Europe: from Stockholm to the Bulgarian seaside, from Paris to Khust in Transcarpathia. The difference this time was that I did not return home after two weeks. In fact, I did not even know when I would be able to afford my first trip back.

At the time, many of us still carried in our minds the story of the Hungarians of 1956, who had not been able to return home for decades. I knew that, within the European Union, travelling home was possible at any time, but I did not know when I would be able to afford it financially. My Polish colleagues treated the question with natural simplicity: to them, it was obvious that if someone wanted to go home, they should go.

So, in mid-April, two and a half months after my arrival, I travelled home for the first time. It felt strange to hear everyone around me speaking Hungarian again.

Learning English with a Dictionary, Films and Television Series

I created my own method for improving my English. I watched films with English subtitles, wrote down the words and expressions that appeared most often, and asked about anything I could not find in the dictionary during my English class.

I had arrived in England with a thick English dictionary. Online translation was still very basic at the time and was only available on a computer.

In the house, I watched the second Harry Potter film on a worn-out television, simply because it was the only DVD I could find there. I soon realised, however, that the language learned from films did not always fit everyday situations.

Later, contemporary English television series proved far more useful. Series such as Doc Martin and Midsomer Murders contained expressions, turns of phrase and idioms that could be used in daily life. They turned out to be a good way of learning.

Overtime, Cleaning and the Ritual of Tea

Because I had a lot of time, I worked a great deal of overtime. The Polish colleagues also had small private jobs and worked extremely hard. So I, too, took on cleaning work for an elderly couple.

They were very kind retired teachers. I spent only two hours a week at their home, but they observed the tea break with strict consistency. Every time, I had tea with them. That small ritual said a great deal about English everyday life: about order, calm and the natural way in which human relationships are maintained.

Trips Home and a Changing Hungary

I travelled home three or four times a year. In Hungary, I found the situation of the country and its people increasingly depressing. I often thought things could not possibly get worse, only to find again and again that they could.

After a while, I began to feel homesick for the peaceful English town. On one occasion, I went home for two weeks, but I found the final days difficult to endure. The smile I had become used to in England was often met at home with puzzled or suspicious looks. Even placing a shopping basket in the wrong spot in a self-service shop could be enough for someone to snap at you.

On longer train journeys, it had once been natural for people to talk to one another. Later, I increasingly felt that everyone remained silent, perhaps to avoid the risk of someone launching into political propaganda.

When the English Town Becomes Home

During my holidays in Hungary, I try to collect as many experiences as possible. I meet family members, go to the theatre and the cinema, including Hungarian films, of course. I meet friends and try to absorb everything that still connects me to Hungary.

And yet, when I return to England and the English bus driver greets me with familiar kindness, warmth fills my heart. At moments like that, I feel that I have come home.

Hungary from a Distance: Radio, Books and Culture

I was able to watch RTL until Brexit. Later, a friend introduced me to Klubrádió, and today I get almost all of my news from Hungary through it.

I make lists of the books recommended in literary programmes, and when I am in Budapest, I buy them. I usually bring fifteen to twenty books back home from Hungary.

As the internet became more widespread, it became much easier to keep in touch with relatives and friends back home. It was also good to follow political and cultural events. Over time, Hungarian authors and storytellers living abroad began to appear, writing about their own lives, the reasons they had left and the experience of living as migrants. Slowly, a kind of cultural circle formed around these people. We also attend Hungarian theatre events from time to time.

The Paths Taken by My Children

My youngest son was the first to arrive in England. He was fifteen when, in 2010, he attended secondary school here for a year before returning home.

Later, my eldest son came out at the age of twenty-six. He eventually stayed. He attended language school diligently, and his English teacher noticed his perseverance. Through her recommendation, he found work in a bicycle repair shop, which was also his profession back home. Today, he runs the shop.

My middle son first ended up in Italy and later moved from there to France. His story is so remarkable that I will leave it to him to write it.

Later, a young woman from the neighbourhood asked for my help in coming to England; that was already fifteen years ago. After that, a friend contacted me because her sister could no longer cope with the strain of the work she had taken in a hotel in southern England, and she asked whether she could come to me. It felt natural to help. She later became my daughter-in-law and the mother of my two grandchildren.

Citizenship, Grandchildren and a Different Social Atmosphere

My eldest son and his entire family have already acquired British citizenship. It was a very interesting experience to attend the citizenship ceremony.

My younger grandson was eight years old at the time. During one of the speeches, he loudly asked when people were supposed to clap. The speaker handled the situation with natural humour, saying that he would let everyone know, and at the end of the speech he did indeed announce that it was now time to clap. The moment caused general amusement and revealed a great deal about why I like this country.

Here, there is no need to bow down before someone simply because they hold a position. People are often treated more naturally and more equally.

My older grandson, who is twelve, speaks Hungarian well, although with an accent. He can also read in Hungarian, though slowly. Both boys are bookworms and read a great deal in English.

Working with Disabled People

After a year and a half, I left my first workplace and began working with disabled people instead.

The homes here are small and family-like. Usually, one to eight people live in each house. These homes can be found in every village and town, which makes them easily accessible for visitors. I believe this would be a good solution in Hungary as well.

These are experiences I would gladly take back home.

What I Miss from Hungary

What I miss most from Hungary is the way people at home can understand one another from half a sentence. I miss fresh fruit, especially sour cherries, which are not really known in England in the same way as in Hungary. I miss the pastries: kifli, túrós batyu and poppy seed dishes. I miss the thermal baths, especially at my age, and of course I miss cultural events.

In England, the hardest thing is the weather, which is not kind to the joints. I am also waiting for knee surgery. The waiting time is between six and twelve months.

Conclusion: When Necessity Becomes Opportunity

Looking back on the past years, I can say that in the end I may even be grateful to my uncle for making our lives so difficult at the time. Everything turned out well.

It is partly thanks to him that we did not have to live through the long years of the Orbán regime in Hungary. I would gladly thank him, but he refuses contact.

Cover photo credit: Ildikó Szombati-Szabó

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