After three months of inaction I finally went house-hunting on Saturday.

Pathetic. For the price of 20 million penny chews (and that's retail, not cost price) I can get a tiny little two bedroom flat in Kilburn - hardly a salubrious area of London. They had some nerve calling it two bedroom, it was more that there were two rooms that beds could have fitted, in much the same way as a 18 tonne lorry fits in a terraced-house front room following a brake failure.

Or, or (and I'm spitting feathers in actual indignant and arrogant rage about how little 00,000 gets you, I'm especially angry because it's my 00,000 and therefore should be able to secure a penthouse with water feature in Belgravia because, godammit that's what I deserve), or I could get a slightly larger two bedroom flat in Brondesbury with a commanding (like a signal box) view of the Jubilee, Metropolitan and railway lines and one of those horrible kitchens that's actually in the lounge. Grrrr.

Looks like this house-buying malarkey could take a little longer than I originally expected.