Moving...Again...yes really.

I am beginning to think that renting houses will one day be the death of me, or my sanity at the very least.

Yes, that's right, we, the Deegan/Curran family are moving for the third time in two years.

First, we moved from Kent to Berkshire, due to Mr D's family being largely based in Maidenhead and the surrounding area. Secondly, Chrissy was 5 months old and we found due to league tables the schools were a much better prospect than in my home town.

So, we packed our three bed house and waved goodbye (you can see more about that move at my My Space blog, follow the link at www.myspace.com/clairefromkent).

Yes, waved goodbye to cheap house prices!

Our 3 bedder in Gillingham was 600pcm.

You'd be a miracle worker to find a bedsit for that here!

The first house we moved into was tiny, with the second bedroom which we could only fit a cot in and nothing else. We had to give away loads of furniture, clothes and other personal belongings which pleased our friends no end, but left us with very little, just so we could fit comfortably within the rooms of the house.

Actually that should really read "uncomfortably" as we had to give our big squashy leather sofa away as it wouldn't fit in the compact living room.

Then we found out we were having Edward, and knew we couldn't squeeze another body into the already bursting at the seams home.

To make matters worse, a month before we moved out, we were sitting happily in the front room, me six months pregnant, Chrissy playing (unpacking boxes we'd packed our stuff in!) and Mr D had just made coffee, when there was an almighty crash from outside.

It sounded like a truck had gone through the front fence into the garden.

Thats because a truck literally had gone through the front garden fence and had missed going through the wall into the front room (where the sofa was sitting with us on it) little more than an inch!

Next we moved into our current house.

We had to do this in a hurry as on the date we were due to move out our previous house, I had gone into labour three months earlier than planned, so we needed a base from which to get to the hospital.

The house was bigger, but "tired" would be a good word to describe it.

But we didn't worry.

How I wish we had of looked a bit harder for something else.

Firstly, we have the ultimate neighbour from hell. You can't sneeze in our house without her making a complaint to our landlords. She must have a fist made of iron, what with all the banging on the wall she does. I actually now believe that she would prefer it if we gagged our children!

So, we now have to move out (Thank god) cos they have decided to sell up due to the continuing credit crunch.

And now, we have had to start househunting again.

The first house we looked at was a dive. With wallpaper hanging off the damp walls, and carpet not just threadbare but not there in some parts, we asked whether the landlords would decorate and replace the carpet before we moved in.

The Letting agent smiled and said no.

And they wanted a staggering 900pcm for it!

Next was a stunning three bedroom detached, with a huge garden and space beyond we'd ever seen!

Problem-fees of over 2,643 pounds. Before we'd signed to say it was ours. Might not sound too bad, but if you fail the credit check after handing over such vast amounts, thy keep the money, and you remain homeless. And I would fail as my identity was stolen a while ago.

So, I took drastic measures. I advertised in the local paper, gumtree and any other housing websites I could find.

And what'd'ya know, it worked.

On Saturday, I received a phone call, from a landlady with a house with three bedrooms, in the part of town we preferred (ie the one with fewer miserable snobs as neighbours), within our budget. There's no stupidly ridiculous fees. No credit referencing. No damp, and brand spanking new carpet without a hole in sight.

We had a look round yesterday, and we will also now have a driveway and garage (handy for when we finally stop moving and can thus afford a car), as well as a big airy conservatory where Chrissy and her mini Toys R Us worthy amount of toys and other pants can reside. It leads right onto the garden, so rather than having to stand in the kitchen and watch her play, I can relax.

The winner for Mr D was the shelves up one wall where his vast amounts of records can happily sit out of reach of Chrissy (who he caught dancing and stamping on one of his motown albums with glee at the weekend).

So, now the packing begins. I hate packing. My sister in laws always nag us about the amount of junk we have, but I never agree until I'm the one packing and unpacking it. So I shall be getting rid of alot of stuff this time.

Well, thats the general idea anyway.

Anyone got any boxes?