So, we finally identified somewhere that we wanted to move to. We had the house redecorated, the way you always do to make sure you weren't embarrassed when people came to view.

The cleaner started coming every other day so that the teenagers' bedrooms resembled rooms at the Ritz rather than spaces stinking of joss sticks, and liberally decorated with damp towels, clothing of indeterminate type and musical instruments/art materials (depending on the child). Or sleeping friends...(Gap in the market? A kind of Rentokill service - only not lethal - for lurking teenagers).

But, then, instead of eager troops of people longing to purchase our lovely home, and allow us to move to the countryside as we long to do, we were stuck. The estate agents trooped through my lovely rooms, tastefully painted in Farrow & Ball-type country house colours, of goose turd and aquamarine, the furniture artfully pushed about, the curtains looped interestingly with found rope.

What we need is a lovely, proactive estate agent, who can help us now to move.

We had identified schools, friends, shops, fields, horses, stables and all. But we could not move an inch.

Sigh. Rethink. Come back soon to see what we did so we could move during a credit crunch.