I recently went to visit a friend who lives on an island in Greece. It was beautiful, like something out of a film. A picturesque village near the sea, smooth sandy beaches, warm weather, and as much Greek yoghurt and honey as we could eat. She’s been living there for decades now, having upped sticks and moved in her twenties.

She’s built a seemingly idyllic life, even cultivating a small garden. As I sat at her outdoor table and chairs sipping a glass of wine in the afternoon sunshine, I couldn’t help feeling a little jealous of her lifestyle, and wondering what would have happened if I too, had moved to an island in Greece in my twenties. We had been in the same friendship group, and the rest of us were all surprised when she announced she was moving, as Greece seemed like an extraordinarily exotic location to us back then.

Imagine my surprise, then, when my friend mentioned to me over dinner that night that she had been wondering whether she made the right decision all those years ago, and imagining what her life might have been like if she had stayed at home. It turned out she had been feeling lonely recently, and while she has friends in Greece, had never built up quite the same community that she might have done at home.

I confided to her how I’d been feeling, and ticked off the long list of seemingly perfect aspects of her lifestyle in Greece. My amazement that anyone could find life on a sunny island anything less than absolutely faultless made her laugh, and soon she agreed that things had worked out rather well. It made me think how easy it is to assume that the road not taken would have been better, when in reality it is simply different.