My comically awful Airbnb break

Caroline likes to rent somewhere on Airbnb between Christmas and new year to break up the winter holiday. No, not in Courchevel or Barbados, I’m afraid, but something a bit more affordable. Last year, we spent three days in Margate, which worked out quite well, save for the eggy smell on the seafront. This year, she decided to rent a house in Cardiff. It was not a success.

The reason for choosing that particular city is that QPR were playing Cardiff at 5.15 p.m. on Boxing Day. The plan was to embark on the drive after lunch, drop the bags off, then head to the stadium. We’d stay in Cardiff until 29 December, at which point we’d drive back to London in time for our home game against Luton. I can imagine many wives baulking at organising family holidays around QPR’s fixture list, and if I was the only Rangers fan in the household it definitely wouldn’t happen. But my four kids are all avid supporters as well, so Caroline has reluctantly fallen into line. I decided to enlist them in this sadomasochistic cult when they were too young to know any better. After all, misery loves company.

On arrival at the Airbnb, the first thing we noticed was how cold it was. Not just because it was only a few degrees above freezing, but because the central heating wasn’t working. We called up the owner, who evidently hadn’t got far because he appeared almost immediately and explained that the boiler was broken and we’d have to make do with fan heaters. Not only that, but the window in the kitchen was locked in an open position – he’d lost the key – and none of the doors to the rooms closed.