One of the great joys of writing is receiving feedback from readers. It's really comforting to know that someone, anyone, is reading what you write.

That said, I received a sad e-mail from a correspondent this week, as follows: "Your disdain of (or hatred for?) the UK's tax regime is no doubt shared by many, including me, having spent 35 years of my life in Bermuda happily avoiding it. May I ask you, though, to write something kind and reassuring (humour would help) for those of us who are about to have an imminent re-acquaintance with said regime, or one similar in another country?

"Having missed out on the Status gold-mine and instead gotten the shaft, i.e. a Permanent Resident's Certificate, and therefore never set foot on the rungs of the property ladder, retirement in Bermuda whilst renting is, of course, impossible.

"What to do? Dubai doesn't seem to want my aged skills, so hello, tax man. Please cast your kindly gaze on me and similar unfortunates who shuffle our sad way to the world of legal thievery in our declining years."

Like this reader, I too will probably face the prospect of returning to the world of legal thievery when my work permit runs out. (I just received a new one, good until November 2009.) My correspondent failed to note an error I made last week: the Borough of Westminster became the City of Westminster in 1965. Apologies for that.

My advice to the reader is, first, to accept what cannot be changed. If he has read this column and that of every other financial writer, and saved money while the going has been good, he will have little to fear economically from a return to the UK.

Few people there have two cents to rub together. Other than members of the political class, who line their pockets at taxpayers' expense, he will run into hardly anyone who can afford a decent meal.

In the world of the economically blind, he will be the one-eyed king. Yes, he will be forced to spend an inordinate amount of time filling out tax forms, but I'd suggest the purchase of an accountant's services to do all that.

Here's the really good news. If you weigh the Bermuda tax and cost of living situation against the British (or many others), you'll find that things are not much worse in Britain. There's a provocative statement for you, but it's true.

Britain has punitive income and capital gains taxes, and VAT. But as a resident past the age of 60, my reader will qualify for free public transportation and free medical treatment. He won't pay import duty on purchases made within Europe. He will be able to own a home, which is an impossibility for expats in Bermuda, and for an increasing number of Bermudians.

He'll be entitled to a state pension, albeit a small one, even though he hasn't worked in Britain for 35 years. Conversely, in Bermuda, where he has probably contributed to a pension for those 35 years, he wouldn't be entitled to one. Britain has a cost of living that can be, if you search out the right places, much cheaper than Bermuda's, even with the pound overpriced at 2:1 to the dollar. A Sunday Times, for example, won't cost $11.95, and it can be had on Sunday. Primark and others sell clothes for a tiny fraction of the cost of their equivalents in Bermuda. It costs less to buy shirts in London than it does to have them laundered in Bermuda.

Electricity costs next to nothing, compared to Belco's prices. Ditto telephone, TV and Internet services — and they work. Ditto just about everything else a person needs. A square meal can be had in London for less than $10 — I ate various cuisines at just such a price last month. (Britain doesn't only have Italian restaurants.)

The reader will be able to find a plumber, an electrician, and a variety of goods and services essentially unavailable here. He'll be able to go for long walks without having to jump into the hedgerows every time an 18-wheeled truck passes by on its way to enriching developers. The Post Office works, more or less. There are no giant cockroaches (if we exclude Piers Morgan).

Britain has movie theatres that show intelligent movies. It has theatre. It has dozens of world-class museums. It has endless concerts. It has Tottenham Hotspur and some other football teams of lesser quality, whose names I forget. It has a huge number of interesting places to visit. It's near other countries that are equally fascinating. Perhaps best of all, it doesn't have — how best to sum all this up? It doesn't have politicians who use parliamentary privilege to threaten to rouse a gang of thugs to attack you if you make a joke.

Britain has a national sense of humour. It's not just OK to make fun of politicians; it's expected. Freedom of speech matters to everyone. It matters to chefs, to doctors and to construction workers, as well as to journalists. (In fairness, I should point out that I have always been allowed to get away with saying whatever I like in Bermuda.)

I'm not arguing that Britain doesn't have objectionable politicians — Gordon Brown is the Prime Minister, for God's sake — but they largely lack the power to threaten physical harm to those with whom they disagree.

My correspondent will have radio to listen to! I'm sure Bermuda has wonderful radio stations, but all they ever talk about is Bermuda, much as the only paintings people seem to have in their homes take as their subject the very Bermuda that can be seen out of the windows.

None of this is to criticise Bermuda, which I have taken to my heart. Bermuda is a sensationally wonderful place. But many of my non-Bermudian readers tell me they are tired of being treated as second-class citizens by a government that is nominally trying to right 400 years of people being treated as second-class citizens. In Britain, almost everyone is treated as a second-class citizen, regardless of race, creed or colour.

The only bad news for my correspondent, other than the weather, is that he will miss Bermuda's people. They, after all, are what make this place so special. But take heart, dear reader. Given the way the Bermuda economy and the insurance industry are going, many Bermudians will probably be moving away with you in the next few years.

* * *

A quick note for anyone who plans to use his or her cell phone on an airplane sitting anywhere near me. Do so, and although I am not a violent man, I will strangle you until you breathe your last words into that appalling device and I will then stamp all over your dead, dead body. I will then happily serve my time in prison. You have been warned.