You may not hear a lot from me for a while now. Packing up everything we own commences this weekend, the move takes place during the week, and then of course, there is the tedious wait for broadband. How will we survive? I won’t be able to check my gossip and Mr C won’t be able to check for Formula 1 news. We’ll be unbearable. Think cold turkey, think withdrawal symptoms, the works.

But, anyway, as I said, the packing starts this weekend, and I have to cut off my nails that I’ve spent ages growing nicely, so that I don’t break them. The sacrifices we make, eh? I will miss this house. It was a refreshingly perfect place after the rotting, decade-old Weetabix infested hell-hole that we occupied previously. Our new house will be just as good, but this one had its plus-points.

Oh, and by the way, it is a fact that we lived next door to a fish and chip shop for six months and never had fish and chips. That’s a story to tell the grandkids, eh?