‘Well,’ says Tom, ‘no one’s going to be buying this house before Christmas.’ The words have barely left his mouth when the phone rings. It is, of course, the estate agent who’s keen to send round some cash buyers in rented accommodation who are hot to trot (well, not that hot, they don’t actually want to view until next week). Just what we wanted – except now the prospect is filling me with dread. I know the whole point of putting your house on the market is to sell it, but something’s gone badly wrong with our timing. Earlier in the year when we had a shortlist of three properties all of which fulfilled our brief (no near neighbours, a work space for each of us), we couldn’t find a buyer. Mind you, we were hardly spoilt for choice; our viewers included a geriatric couple looking for a manageable bungalow (perhaps we should have sold them the downstairs?), the ‘couple and one child’ family who thought our house was too small (hello? Five bedrooms??), but which I still think was m...