Articles about leaving London have become such a cliché that articles about how much of a cliché those articles are have become just as much of a cliché. Last year, journalist Ms Julie Burchill contributed yet another to the genre for The Spectator called, “I’m Tired Of Being Tired Of London”.

But this, we hope, is something a little different. We are not here to pretend that the grass is greener on the other side. This is about how to cope once you’ve made the big decision. Because while it is cheaper, quieter and less stressful living beyond the M25, you may be deciding to do so out of necessity rather than for a change of scenery.

Ms Erin Clune, the author of How To Leave: Quitting The City And Coping With A New Reality, decided to leave New York after almost 15 years to return to her hometown of Wisconsin for a variety of reasons, but mainly because she had decided to have children. Her book is about how she coped with leaving one of the most exciting places on the planet to go to, well, Wisconsin. And here’s how you can leave, too.

It is possible, according to Ms Clune, to both love and hate a place at the same time. “In my book, I recount a story about walking down Amsterdam Avenue in New York humming along to Beyoncé, but when I turn the corner, I almost step into a pile of excrement and see a guy pulling up his pants.” Ms Erin is, rather starkly, making the point that there is no perfect way (or place) to live, and you should bear that in mind when thinking about your next move.

There will, however, be a point at which the bad outweighs the good. “I suggest that people pay attention to their tipping points,” says Ms Clune. “If you’re ambivalent about a place, a baby will just intensify the uncertainty. We were competing for a spot at expensive private schools in New York with people who were so competitive and such social climbers. We heard a headmaster say that the annual tuition for his school was the equivalent of driving a BMW into the Hudson river every year and I thought, ‘This is bonkers’. One day, a woman in my building told me her kid got into Brearley School (ours did not) and I said, ‘That’s it, I’ve hit my tipping point. I’m leaving.’”

One recurring theme of the “why I left London” broadsheet articles is the authors’ insistence that everything is marvelous in the less expensive part of the world they moved to. Ms Clune believes we should embrace the feeling of failure when leaving the city of our dreams. “Don’t force yourself to be falsely positive. Some things are just hard. Leaving your favourite place is a big deal. It often marks the end of your youth. Look it in the face, drink whisky, do yoga, make a list, whatever works for you. For us, we just had to argue until we landed on a place. We argued so much we considered leaving each other instead of New York. My husband is a peacemaker and I’m an obnoxious loudmouth, and that’s why we live in my hometown, Wisconsin.”

“Don’t mistake the honeymoon phase for the whole experience,” says Ms Clune. “When we have limited information we tend to fall back on stereotypes, and stereotypes aren’t necessarily totally wrong, but they are always incomplete. When you first move to a place, which is so quaint and lovely, you’re basically still visiting. Live there for a while before you make too many big decisions, if possible, because otherwise you’re setting yourself up for a letdown.”

She adds, “The key to adjusting is to accept that there is no perfect place. Maybe you hate how dark it is, but generally like how quiet and calm it is.  Maybe there aren’t as many cultural opportunities but your kids are less anxious and frantic.”

You may no longer be the guy in the bespoke suit who seduced a model in the stairway of The Groucho Club (that was in the 1990s). But you can always hold onto your past urban self.  “You will have to deal with yourself wherever you go,” says Ms Clune. “In certain ways, my husband and I still don’t fit in here. I am sarcastic and flippant and rather direct in my conversational style. Yet we can adjust to the culture; I try to swear less, for example. I wear headphones in my yard to avoid talking to people I dislike, even if the headphones aren’t connected to a device. And, sadly, I have adopted the local uniform of fleeces and athleisure, because there aren’t as many places to wear my Burberry trench coat. At the same time, I’m still neurotic and anxious. That hasn’t changed. I’m near family and it is easier having family nearby, in a slower-paced town. Adjust in ways you can and otherwise be yourself.”

How To Leave: Quitting The City And Coping With A New Reality (Bloomsbury Publishing) by Ms Erin Clune is out now