Two days later we got the phone call to say it was ours (yes they made us wait two whole days) and two months later we moved house. Five weeks before the baby was due, two weeks before it was born, and in the middle of a summer so hot that the train lines buckled in the heat. The movers came and packed us for three days and then departed in two enormous vans apparently for a lock-up somewhere before meeting us at the new house the next day. Nos 1 & 2 and I spent the first night of our non-London existence in the hysterically bad hotel in a Northamptonshire market town. With our new found, daring attitude to money we took what was laughingly called a suite (ie two rooms with sparky nylon carpet and an en suite with a cracked plastic shower tray) at the very top of an ancient building. And while the floors were charmingly uneven and the windows quaintly tiny, the noise of mice and the steaming heat were such that I for one, great with child as only I ever seem to be, got no sleep at all. None.