In these pressed financial times, with estate agents twiddling their thumbs for lack of activity and thinking of sending their kids up chimneys to help pay the bills, I have struck on a way they can boost business.

Namely: offer ways for buyers and sellers to relieve the mental and physical strain of moving. I'm thinking therapy sessions for purchasers driven to anxiety attacks by the combined vagaries of solicitors, estate agents and vendors who remove all the lightbulbs when departing. (I once moved into a house where someone did this. They also removed the curtains so I had to dress in the bathroom and woke at dawn for a week.)

On the physical side - massage sessions and physiotherapy appointments for bodies racked by packing, lifting and carrying all their worldly possessions; trips to a beauty salon for nails ravaged by packing boxes.

Or perhaps some sellers desperate to get rid of their properties should take up the idea. Either way I feel a trip to Dragons' Den coming on.

On the road again

From this you may surmise that yes, I am moving. Again. Actually so far the mental strain has not been too great as all has gone fairly smoothly. I have not yet embarked on the soul destroying task of informing everyone from HR to the tax office of my new address, nor to find yet another GP.

What is taking its toll is the physical strain of lifting boxes, carrying paint tins and wielding brushes. When the move is over and the decorating complete I would love to go for a massage. Although I know some people get freaked out by the idea of being touched by strangers while their dignity is protected only by a towel I find them to be good for the body and soul and so long as you have a masseuse who knows what they are doing, a great treat.


A friend has someone come to her house once a month, massage table in hand. I think she might write it off as a tax expense; an option sadly not open to us wage slaves.

But as a member of the mortgaged classes in the days when good fixed rate deals are over, such treats are a luxury I can't afford. My new neighbours might have to watch out for a slightly frazzled-looking thirty-something trying to manipulate her own spine.