Poland Isn’t an Escape Plan. It’s a Design Choice.

Why Poland, you may ask. Well, why not?

This is the part where I am supposed to regale you with stories of careful research into semi retirement destinations across Europe. Long evenings searching the web, conversations with expats, spreadsheets comparing cost of living, healthcare, climate, and lifestyle. I would like to tell you that story, but I cannot.

The truth is far simpler.

My best friend, the love of my life, my wife, is Polish.

That single fact renders most of the usual relocation narrative unnecessary. There was no grand strategy, no sudden revelation, no restless dissatisfaction driving me elsewhere. Just a quiet, obvious truth that has been present all along.

Winston Churchill once said, “My most brilliant achievement was my ability to persuade my wife to marry me.” It is an achievement I am more than happy to claim for myself.

This year we celebrate twenty years of marriage. That feels worth pausing on.

Even now, when people discover that my wife is Polish, they will often ask, with genuine curiosity, whether I have ever been there. I find the question faintly bizarre. Of course I have. I fell in love with her home town of Toruń almost as quickly as I fell in love with her.

Over the years I have been lucky enough to be welcomed by her friends, people who have consistently gone out of their way to make me feel at home. Without exception, they have made every effort to speak English for my benefit, a generosity that still embarrasses me slightly and motivates me, belatedly, to do better.

What began as visits gradually became something more familiar. Less like travel, more like returning. Poland stopped being a destination and started to feel like part of the landscape of my life.

There is a quiet confidence that comes with time. After twenty years, Poland does not feel like a leap into the unknown, but a continuation of something already familiar. It is a place where relationships exist, routines can be imagined, and life does not need to be reinvented. I am not chasing novelty or drama, just coherence. The future I am considering there feels steady rather than exciting, and I mean that as a compliment.

And if I am being entirely honest, there is one further detail that I occasionally cite as the final deciding factor. Toruń is home to Motoarena Toruń, one of the finest żużel stadiums in the world. As a lifelong admirer of motorcycle speedway and grasstrack, I like to joke that this was the last positive that sealed the decision. Every good plan deserves at least one reason that exists purely for joy.

For many years I assumed that, assuming I made it to retirement, I would move to Dorset. My father was raised in the county, and some of my happiest childhood memories are tied to holidays there. I even joined the Blandford Forum branch of the Royal British Legion, quietly anticipating a slower exit from London.

From a purely practical, logical point of view, Dorset would have made sense. And that, I think, is where the idea of design choice becomes important.

We have all sat somewhere warm on holiday, watching the sun set, quietly convincing ourselves that this is where we should live. My decision is not that. It is not romantic, impulsive, or fueled by fantasy. It is deliberate, shaped by familiarity, continuity, and care.

I could list all the reasons the decision makes sense, but there is one that matters more to me than any other. I am eleven years older than my wife. It would be reasonable to assume that she will outlive me. Ensuring that, when I am gone, she is secure, supported, and at home feels like responsibility rather than sacrifice.

What has not gone unnoticed is that, while I have been considering where to live the next part of my life, I have also, perhaps subconsciously, decided where I will die.

And I am at peace with that.