A room of my own

I didn’t realise how much I needed one. Until I lost it

This is my study/office/den/whatever you want to call it.

Or it was, until, earlier this year. Now, it looks more like this:

I’m going to spare you the gory details. I’ll just give you two words. Flood. Sewage. (Or ‘ingress’ as my friend

Lindsay Johnstone

so delicately calls it.) It started like this, last October…