I tried to escape the confines of Balham in Oxshott

My London flat now has so little space in it I’ve begun storing stuff at the dry cleaners. Back in May, I checked a huge winter quilt in at Viking’s and left it there until the weather turned colder. There just wasn’t anywhere, not a single spare nook or cranny, to put it and quite frankly I balk at renting a £100 a month lock-up at the Big Yellow Storage so I can keep a spare winter duvet.

The man at the dry cleaners was quite cross when I turned up this week to claim it, pleading forgetfulness. He had a look that said he knew full well I had intended for my quilt to summer in the back of his shop. When he couldn’t find it he allowed me to come around the counter to look myself and there I found rack upon rack of duvets and quilts snuggly vacationing on his shelves.

As I paid, the owner informed me I was lucky as the rule is anything left for three months is thrown out. ‘Thanks for looking after it… I mean, not throwing it away,’ I said. He scowled.

Clearly, I cannot go on like this. I cannot live the rest of my life in a space that has no space, with a rule of something in, something out for every new dress or book or Cath Kidston mug I buy. Cue house-hunting in Surrey. Again. Like Margo Leadbetter I always threaten to move to Cobham when I’m fed up.

But this time I thought I would spread my wings wider than Cobham. Branch out. Go wild. Give Oxshott a whirl. Ah Oxshott, home to the largest number of Premiership footballers in one place, and the safe haven from which Andy Murray bangs on about Scottish independence.