LIZ JONES'S DIARY: In which I have to say goodbye to my home

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My car broke down again the day after I picked it up from the garage with a new clutch: bill £800, though I was quoted £500. ‘Including VAT?’ I’d asked them, frightened, when they had said £500. ‘Yes, including VAT.’ 

After two weeks of absolutely no news, I called them. ‘We haven’t started work on it again as you still owe us £800 for the clutch. It’s not worth repairing.’ ‘Why didn’t you call me?’ ‘No idea.’

The house I had applied to rent, the lovely Georgian house on the green at Reeth (on the market for £875 a month), but was turned down for having initially been accepted because a relative of the landlord wanted it, came back on the market. 

‘Please let me rent the house,’ I emailed the estate agent, a woman called Sue. ‘I never wear shoes indoors. I love, love, love the house.’

I kept everything crossed, then today I…

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