And yet, a ferry ride from the familiar, a European island is quietly soaking up British arrivals who swear they’ve hacked the cost-of-living crunch. They claim they spend about £900 a month and still wake up to sea views, cheap coffee, and a bus network that runs like a reliable heartbeat. Locals notice it too: more English heard at the market, more long-stay rentals snapped up fast. Not quite paradise. But close enough to make you wonder what’s stopping you.
The café table is tacky with salt spray and the sound of waves keeps interrupting small talk. A couple from Norwich are comparing bus routes with a retiree from Manchester, while a barista shouts orders in Spanish and English without missing a beat. A single espresso is €1.20, and the waiter laughs when you ask if they take cards. Here, cash still rules and time moves like warm honey.
On Tenerife’s north coast, a woman in flip-flops leans out from a balcony and clips laundry to a line that mist drifts through. She tells me she moved “for the small things”. Her rent is less than a London rail pass. When the trade winds pick up, the entire street smells of washing powder and grilled fish. She says, with a grin, that each day feels suspiciously like a holiday. It lingers with me.
They all repeat one line, almost word for word. “With just £900 a month, we live like we’re on holiday all year.”
Why Tenerife, and why now?
Sunlight is the obvious draw, but it’s the rhythm that locks people in. Tenerife runs on late-morning coffees, slow lunches, and ocean at the end of most streets. It’s Spain, but island Spain, where the climate can feel like spring in February and autumn never quite arrives. British expats talk about time as if it’s a product they’re finally able to afford.
Then there’s the arithmetic. Long-term rents in working towns like La Orotava, Los Realejos or San Isidro often sit in the €500–€700 bracket for a simple one-bed if you commit to 6–12 months. Groceries swing cheap if you keep to island staples: bananas, papas arrugadas, local fish. A monthly bus card can undercut the price of two Uber rides in London. Flights back to the UK go twice daily and sometimes less than a decent round of drinks.
The British presence is not exactly new, but it’s thickening. Brexit nudged some to commit to proper residency, others to rotating 90-day stints, and the pandemic put remote work on a plane. Exchange rates wobble, but the island’s diversified economy—tourism, agriculture, public services—keeps everyday prices relatively sane. Not always low. Just sane. Local registry figures count many thousands of Britons across the Canaries, and Tenerife holds the lion’s share, clustering along the south-west coast and the greener north. The island keeps absorbing new arrivals because the life on offer is clear.
How people really do £900 a month
There’s a method to it. The savvy ones rent in local neighbourhoods inland from the resort strips, where you trade poolside clichés for tiled floors and a bakery downstairs. They sign year-long contracts, buy fans instead of air-con, and cook at home most nights. Fresh fish on Fridays, market veg twice a week, wine in boxes not bottles. They walk. They use the bus. They learn to time electricity-hungry chores for off-peak hours. It’s all unglamorous and strangely liberating.
Sarah and Dave, both mid-40s from Leeds, showed me their numbers. Rent: €560 for a one-bed in La Laguna, high ceilings, no lift. Utilities: €85 in summer, a bit more when the dehumidifier runs. Groceries: €230, mostly local. Phone and fibre: €40. Public transport: €35. Eating out: €70, more in visitor season. Healthcare top-up: €45. The rest is buffer. “We keep a £100 emergency pot,” Dave says, tapping his phone, “because island life does throw curveballs.” Let’s be honest: nobody really does that every day.
One reason the £900 headline works is structural costs. Island buses are frequent and integrated, and the bono card stretches far. Second-hand furniture trades hands via local Facebook groups for the price of a round. Beaches are free, libraries are quiet, and municipal pools are cheap. Remote workers eat mid-day menus at €12 and call it a perk. The flip side is seasonal pressure on rents, queues for paperwork, and a learning curve with visas. Still, the logic holds if you choose your postcode wisely, stay flexible, and accept that tourist-town prices are designed for tourists, not you.
Tips, traps, and the paperwork you’ll actually meet
Start with location and paperwork in the same breath. North-side towns like La Laguna, Tacoronte and La Orotava tend to be cooler, cheaper, and more lived-in. The south-west—Los Cristianos, Costa Adeje, Playa de las Américas—offers sunshine and English menus, at a premium. If you’re staying under 90 days in 180, the Schengen clock rules your calendar. If you’re committing, look into the **Non-Lucrative Visa** or self-employed routes, then the NIE number and local registration. One morning at the town hall with the right documents can open every door.
Housing moves fast. Have scans ready: passport, income proof, references, and a deposit that clears quickly. View in daylight and check water pressure; island plumbing can be quirky. Talk to neighbours in the stairwell. Some buildings sing till 2am. Others are silent after nine. We’ve all had that moment when the flat looks perfect online and smells like old fryer grease in person. Keep your humour. This is an island that rewards patience and penalises rushing.
Budgeting is less about deprivation and more about defaults. Cook on weekdays, eat across the island on weekends. Buy a fan before you buy an air-conditioning unit. And when you hear other expats say “everything is cheap,” smile and ask where they shop.
“We came for the sun,” says Mel, a retired nurse from Bristol. “We stayed because the small bills stopped scaring us.”
- Target €500–€700 for long-term one-beds outside tourist cores.
- Use the bus network; the monthly card can save a shocking amount.
- Learn three market phrases and one polite joke. Doors open faster.
- Keep a rainy-day pot of €100–€200. Islanders plan for ferries, not surprises.
- Track your first three months. The island shows you your true budget.
The human side: what fills a life here
It sneaks up on you. The friend who texts that the tide is perfect right now, and you have ten minutes to drop everything. The neighbour who brings over mangoes because her tree overdid it this year. A bus driver who waits because he saw you sprinting the last twenty meters. *Happiness here is more routine than rare.* Evenings are for watching dogs on the promenade, not checking your smart meter. If you’re wired for British bustle, the stillness can feel like a mirror. Share it. Or talk back to it.
| Point clé | Détail | Intérêt pour le lecteur |
|---|---|---|
| Cost-of-living sweet spot | Rents of €500–€700 in non-tourist areas; cheap buses; market produce | Shows how the £900 claim can work without extreme frugality |
| Post-Brexit routes | 90/180 stays for short visits; **Non-Lucrative Visa** or self-employed for long-term | Clarifies legal paths, avoids costly mistakes and overstays |
| Place matters | North for lower prices and cooler climate; south-west for sun and convenience | Helps you pick an area that matches budget and lifestyle |
FAQ :
- Is £900 a month genuinely realistic on Tenerife?For a single person renting a modest one-bed outside tourist zones, yes—if you cook often, use public transport, and keep extras lean. Couples often hit £1,300–£1,600 comfortably.
- Where should I look for long-term rentals?Try La Laguna, La Orotava, Tacoronte, San Isidro, or Los Realejos. In the south, look a few streets inland from resort fronts for better value.
- What about visas after Brexit?Short stays are under the **90/180 rule**. For longer, Britons commonly apply for the **Non-Lucrative Visa** or register as autónomo (self-employed), then secure an NIE and local registration.
- How does healthcare work for Britons?UK state pensioners can use an S1 form to access care. Others often start with private insurance, then move into the public system when eligible.
- Is there a strong British community?Yes—especially in the south-west—but you’ll find English speakers island-wide. Learning basic Spanish speeds everything up and deepens daily life.
