The Journey

A New Life in God's Own Country

By Jon Cosson · Updated 17 October 2026

I spent most of my working life in the City of London. Now I spend my mornings on an empty moor road in a classic car, with my dog in the passenger seat and nowhere I have to be. This is the story of turning fifty-eight into a beginning, not an ending.

From the City to the moors

For decades I worked in cyber-security and IT in the City of London, the pace, the pressure, the commute, the sense that life was something that happened in the gaps between deadlines. It was a good career and I don't regret a day of it. But somewhere along the way, the stress had quietly become the scenery.

So we did something about it. We moved 250 miles north, from the noise of London to a quiet corner of North Yorkshire on the edge of the North York Moors. A few people thought we were mad. We have never been more certain of anything.

What changed

Everything slowed down, in the best possible way. Mornings that used to belong to a train timetable now belong to me and the dog. The stress I'd carried for years simply lifted, replaced by big skies, heather moorland and the kind of quiet you can actually hear.

I got my health back, too. Over the past year I've lost thirteen stone, and I'll happily leave the “how” to the experts, because that isn't what this is about. What matters is what it gave me: the energy and the freedom to genuinely get out and live, to walk the moors, to clamber in and out of an old car, to make the most of where we'd landed.

I rediscovered a passion. The classic cars I had always loved stopped being something I read about and became the thing I actually do. A drive over Blakey Ridge in an old Jaguar or the AC, windows down, dog navigating, a pub lunch at the far end, isn't really a car trip at all. It's a small journey of discovery, every single time.

The best years, not the waiting room

There's a lazy idea that retirement, especially early, in your fifties, is the start of winding down. God's waiting room. I could not disagree more. Life does not end at fifty-eight. Life is what you make it, and I have never made more of it than I do now.

We landed in God's own country, not God's waiting room, and it turns out the best years weren't behind me at all.

Follow the journey

That, really, is what this whole site is about. The guide will help you discover the North York Moors, the villages, the walks, the drives, the coast and the country pubs. The touring journal is where I share the journey itself: a retired bloke, a daft and photogenic dog, a classic car and a stunning landscape, one drive at a time. If you are weighing up the same move, my practical guide to retiring or moving to the North York Moors covers the towns, the costs and the day-to-day.

If you happen to be standing where I once stood, wondering whether the best chapter might still be ahead of you, I hope this gives you a nudge. Come and see what a second life in God's own country actually looks like.

Where to stay in the North York Moors

Self-catering cottages, village inns and farmhouse boltholes right across the moors, from the southern villages to the coast.

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