The British daily Metro recently ran a feature called “We became digital nomads,” following the adventures of three women who traded in routine for roaming. The stories are fun, colourful, and occasionally chaotic. But they also reveal the gap that still exists in how mainstream media frames nomad life. Do we really still need to explain that digital nomads aren’t just tourists who overstayed their holiday? Apparently yes.
Ann: spiritual coaching with a side of airports
At 56, Ann Varney decided that spending £3,000 a month in Scotland wasn’t giving her joy — or sunshine. With partner Dave, she sold the house, the car, most belongings, and set off for Thailand. The couple hopscotched through Asia and Australia, redirecting Ann’s income from her online Spiritual Awakening Academy to pay for pools, breakfasts, and peace. Along the way they discovered both human kindness (“kindness doesn’t speak a language”) and the joys of bureaucratic chaos: overstays in Bali, denied entry into China, and yellow-fever-jab drama en route to Colombia. The freedom is real, but so are the fines.
Cheryl: Zoom calls and giraffes
Cheryl Laidlaw, a web designer from High Wycombe, has been remote for 15 years, but the pandemic nudged her further afield. She’s worked from cafés in South Africa (squeezing in a safari between calls), from France, Barbados, and even luxury hotels with dodgy wifi. The bills range from £650 for a quick Ghent escape to £3,000 for a week in St Lucia. The verdict? Inspiration is priceless, sunsets are photogenic, and yes — even nomads sometimes take calls in their pyjamas at 10pm.
Sophia: pragmatism over palm trees
Finally, Sophia Husbands — once a UK law lecturer, now a tutor and mentor — has been dipping in and out of nomad life since 2013. Her advice? Do your homework. Visas, taxes, bank accounts, compliance: these aren’t Instagrammable, but they’re what make long-term mobility sustainable. Sophia is the one reminding newcomers not to sell their UK home “just in case,” and to treat a short holiday as a test drive before relocating.
What Metro gets right (and wrong)
Credit where it’s due: Metro captures the energy of people who swapped routine for adventure, with anecdotes that make you smile and squirm in equal measure. But what’s missing is context. Nomadism is not just about trading Edinburgh for Cancun, or swapping a flat in High Wycombe for a beach bar. It’s a lifestyle that intersects with work culture, immigration law, taxation, housing markets, and yes — local communities.
Framing nomads as “laptop tourists” is easy copy. Framing them as part of a global workforce experimenting with mobility, less so. Yet that’s the conversation worth having.
Do we still need to explain?
Every time a mainstream piece like this runs, nomads everywhere sigh. No, we’re not just vacationers with wifi. No, we’re not dodging “real life” until money runs out. Digital nomadism is work — often more demanding than the 9-to-5 left behind. The laptop is the office, not the escape hatch.
The stories from Metro are entertaining snapshots, but the bigger picture is this: nomadism is shifting from novelty to normality. The sooner media stops treating it as a quirky post-pandemic hobby, the sooner we can talk seriously about the challenges (visas, taxes, housing) and opportunities (regeneration, talent mobility, cultural exchange) that matter.
Because if there’s one thing we don’t need in 2025, it’s another headline explaining that “you can work from anywhere now.” We got the memo. The world just hasn’t caught up.