Homeless since the start of June. Living out of a bag and on the kindnesses of others.

The seller of our new home decided (after nine months in the conveyancing process) that he didn't want to sell after all - but our flat was due to be someone else's at the end of the week. So we sold, stored everything, and started looking for spare bedrooms in the houses of friends and family.

The first few days of being without an address seemed fun; an alternating charge of panic and freedom. Walking with my cousin through the hills behind her house (where we were cuckooing), I made a plan. Lower expectations, find chain-free property, buy. Even if there's mould up the walls and a set of resentful plastic windows.

It's now the end of the third week and each of the properties viewed has turned to dust before an offer was even accepted because the industry is stuffed with stamp duty snatchers. So I must adjust for the long haul. I also realise that I miss my bike and my Mac like actual people.