Last September, when my husband and I left Surrey, we had stars in our eyes. We’d spent years combing through towns and villages across the south east of England to find somewhere new to live that had all our requirements: good schools, old houses, and easy access to London – but at a fraction of the price.

Eventually, we found a 2,200 square foot Victorian townhouse in Bedford (about 50 miles or 40 minutes on a train to the capital) that didn’t need work, and only cost marginally more than the house we were in at the time. It gave us extra breathing space for our family to grow, for us to work, and for people to stay. It was perfect! That was, until October arrived.

Our previous home was a 1,300 square foot, three-bedroom chalet – my husband’s grandmother’s house – that was in dire ne

See Full Page