The rich RELATION

Should Tom and I move in with my sister? She’s definitely stepping up her campaign

My sister Deb flung aside the bedroom door and announced as if she were declaring the place officially open, ‘And this would be your room.’

‘Oh!’ said Mr. Dear, peering in from the landing.

We’ve seen it before, of course, and even slept here (a more considerate sister would have installed a blue plaque), but ‘Oh!’ was still an understandable response.

It’s the size that strikes you first. Somebody with a small circle of friends could use this as a makeshift ballroom. You could get out of bed in the middle of the night and shuffle to the door, only to forget what you wanted before you got halfway across the carpet.

Oh yes, the carpet. This is so deep in places that guests should probably be issued with snorkels. Then there’s the bed. If you fancied a bit of a cuddle, you’d need an Ordnance Survey map to plan a route to the other side.

‘Must be hellishly expensive to keep warm,’ said Mr D, ever practical.

‘You’d be surprised,’ said Deb. ‘That window is actually triple glazed.’

‘Oh,’ said Mr. Dear.

‘And you’ll remember there’s underfloor heating,’ she said.

Honestly, you’d think we slept in a rude hut back home.