It’s official. Our House is trying to kill us. Like Bone et al, we’ve experienced many a problem with our beloved Home Sweet Home, including a shower that’s never worked, broken garage doors and damp and mould to name only a selected few. And our landlord does nothing except getting his missus to come round and make me cry regularly.

But this morning tops the lot. I was minding my own business in my room when I heard an almighty crash outside. I ran out, expecting to find Scott lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, but instead I found him in the bathroom looking at the heavy glass shower door which had fallen off the wall and landed on the floor, where it had made a hole, and where helen sleeps in a cabin bed only inches from. Chris managed to sleep through the whole incident.

Ironically, this house was once nicknamed the ‘Palace’ by my friend.

S’pose we can kiss goodbye to the bond now…