Lesson no 1 in finding a new home: it's not all about looks, kids. Don't be seduced by the funky tiling, or the great view. Keep an eagle eye for telltale signs of damp, etc. These things will haunt you.

You'd think, after 28 years and almost as many moves (I have literally lost count, but as close as I can calculate, it's about 25), I would know this. But no. We viewed this flat twice - two whole times - and I thought it looked great. Really cute kitchen. Groovy bathroom, too. Character building. All that. Until the day we moved in, when suddenly I realised that the place was actually falling apart. We hadn't bought it, of course, or we would have become aware of all these issues. So we have a landlady who is supposed to deal with our various problems, and she's a dear and well-intentioned soul, but completely useless. So's the building managing agent. How soon can we move out? Not soon enough. How much am I looking forward to moving again? Not. At. All.

But I don't think I can face another winter in this place. I can barely face this one, but I have to, since we just moved in and all. At least we can now take a bath without imposing a shower on Mr Downstairs. But the bath doesn't get very hot. We can now open the bedroom window, too, which had been painted shut for a goodly while (a year? more?), and get some fresh air in. Which is nice. I think I could do with a little less fresh air in the lounge, though - would be nice if the windows really closed tightly - and I could definitely, definitely do with less damp. We discovered a veritable forest of mould on a pillow that had the misfortune to be shoved up against the ceiling inside the bedroom cupboard. This was after just a few weeks. No wonder I'm always snuffly.

I miss our last place. I miss the space. I miss the incredible river view. I miss the leisure centre, complete with jacuzzi. Mmmm. I miss the ample cupboard space and the double glazing. Heat actually staying inside? How novel.

I don't miss the long bus or tube ride required to get anywhere, though, and I don't miss the dismal grimy street the bus rode down. I do love our new neighbourhood: cafes, bookshops, and dozens of buses and tubes to anywhere. I love walking to work. I love living on our own - just me and Beloved Consort, sans flatmate. So there's good, definitely. I just wish I could have all this, plus comfort.

That would be nice.