Change of life

Having left a sociable office job to work from home, Libby Page found herself struggling even to get out of bed. Then one day, at a low ebb, she found a community that turned her life around

‘Working from home made me painfully lonely.’

I’m alone in my flat, listening to the sound of children playing at the school down the street. I haven’t spoken all day, not since my fiancé left for work. I reach for my phone, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram. But the cheerful images make everything worse.

This wasn’t the first time I’d felt desperately lonely. When I moved to London at 18 it took me a long time to make friends. I struggled and felt overwhelmed by the city. For the first time I started to get panic attacks. Gradually, I found my feet, as well as wonderful friends and my partner, but then three years ago I left my office job at a charity to become a full-time novelist and everything changed.

The book deal was a dream come true, but I wasn’t prepared for how I’d feel going from a sociable office to being alone every day. Despite my excitement, I found myself slipping into loneliness again.

Though I tried to work through it by filling my evenings with endless social plans, being on the go every night was exhausting and didn’t change the isolation I felt the next morning when I began yet another day working alone.

I also couldn’t admit to how I was feeling. I’d always wanted to be an author; the fact I was struggling made me feel like a failure. I felt stuck – desperate to enjoy my new life but often finding it hard to get out of bed.

One particularly low day, longing to be around people, I took my laptop to a local café I’d visited at weekends, drawn in by the pink front door and magnificent pastries.

That day I was make-up-free with unbrushed hair and I felt utterly frazzled. I just intended to put my head down and for no one to notice me. But as soon as I stepped inside, the atmosphere was warm and calming, the air filled with the smell of coffee and quiet conversation. ‘Take a seat wherever you like,’ said a friendly waitress. I didn’t speak to anyone but her, and yet being there was enough to make me feel less alone.

I started going to the café at least once a week. I followed it on Instagram and commented on photos, starting an online conversation with the staff. It made me feel connected.

One day, one of the owners introduced herself and asked if I’d like to be involved in a networking event for local women that they were organising. I said yes straight away.

After the event, I became friendly with both of the café owners, Helen and Paula, as well as the chief baker, Abi. She and I discovered a mutual love of dressmaking and went fabric shopping together. I’ve never been a ‘regular’ anywhere before but I knew I’d become one at the café when I started being greeted with hugs.

Encouraged, I started an informal book group there. People drifted in and out but there are some regulars, including Toni, a book blogger, who works at a school, and Sonali, a journalist, who sometimes brings her puppy. There’s nothing like a lovable cockapoo to cheer you up.

We’ve also hung out outside the café. And when Sonali found out that I enjoy outdoor swimming, she invited me to join her ‘Pond Ladies’ Whatsapp group. Now, I swim with the group twice a week at Hampstead Ladies’ Pond.

Finding the café has not only helped me to get out and about; for thefirsttimeifeelpartofmycommunity. I arrived feeling lost and alone, and today I feel that I belong – not just to the café, but to my city, which no longer feels like a cold and impenetrable place.

In that time I’ve become used to working on my own. I actually enjoy it! I have people in my neighbourhood who I can call on if I need them.

But the best part of stepping into my local café has been the friendships I’ve made there that reach beyond its walls. I went looking for an escape from my isolation and found so much more.

The 24-Hour Café, by Libby Page, is out now (Orion Fiction, £12.99)

I belong – not just to the café, but to my city, which no longer feels cold and impenetrable

From top Libby Page (centre) at the café; books on sale