I always imagined that by this point in my life – our lives – we’d be proud owners of a nice home…you know, the kind you have a mortgage on, instead of pissing rent down the drain every month. But alas, we do piss money away each month to a landlord – the only time we haven’t is when we were made homeless…when I say “we” I mean, my partner, our 4 year old son, my rapidly growing pregnancy bump, our dog and garden snail, and I, were homeless.

When we think of motherhood, and all the constituent parts, that go together, and roll together, to create the imagery of a fabulous mummy, renting isn’t one of those things. Being stuck, like quicksand type of stuck, in the rented sector, doesn’t really bolster one to the highly esteemed category of being a great Mum. Quite frankly, I feel like poo for not being a home owner; raising a family in such circumstances in the UK, makes me feel almost negligent. Why? Well, it goes like this….oh and I speak from bitter experience here.

Tenancy agreements run for 6 months and thereon after tenants can lose their home with as little notice as 4 weeks. Like I said I know, I – we – are veterans of the rental sector. It happened to us 3 times on the bounce. My LO was aged one, the first time, aged two the second time, and aged 4 the third time. The third time we were made homeless; I was 6 months pregnant with our second child at the time.