After ten years of listening to your neighbour strumming tunelessly on the Spanish guitar he bought while on holiday in Benidorm, you’re ready for a move. The first job is to drive down to B&Q to buy all the white paint you can fit in your car boot. This should then be plastered over your entire house, although painting your pets is optional. There should be no colour remaining, as that could offend any potential buyers. For instance, if you have a red switch above your oven and a buyer calls round who prefers mauve, the deal could be sunk immediately. If all of this sounds a bit daunting you could appear on Channel Four and get them to do all the decorating for you, although, in return you will be subjected to insults by a fop wearing a purple shirt.

Once your house has been sufficiently neutralised it’s time to find an estate agent. Energy expended making this decision is a waste as they don’t actually do anything except answer the phone. Try to find one whose employees are familiar with the English language, however, as this can be useful.

A fifteen year old boy wearing a suit will then call around and tell you that your house is worth twice as much as you had thought and that it should sell within a week or two. It will then go on the market. Now it’s time to get the vacuum cleaner out just in case some nosey-parker calls round to see what colour your loo is. Eventually, after you have reduced the asking price enough times, you might get an offer. Don’t accept this! Hold out for at least another fifty quid. Blighty top tip - drive a hard bargain.

Now it’s time to choose a solicitor. This is akin to the Grim Reaper popping up and offering you your favoured choice of slow death. Try to find one whose office has been decorated since World War II and isn’t still using Amstrad PCWs. Once you have employed a solicitor don’t expect them to do any work until the day of the move. Until that point their time will be spent squabbling with other solicitors in the chain, if your file is opened at all. You could try ringing them for an update but the person responsible for your move will be away in Tenerife and won’t be back until early next year.

After months of torture, when every ring of the phone causes palpitations and a headache, the day of your move arrives. It is advisable that you buy some of that valium people are always offering you by email for this day. As we are in England your buyers could still pull out, and probably will, so try to suppress your excitement until you actually get the key. Once you have the key you can get inside your new home to see if that cheapo report missed anything obvious like a hole in the roof. Then you can relax for a bit… until the girl next door starts violin practise.