As I hurtle towards my 30th birthday, personal space is top of my wishlist. Like many people my age, I don’t own a property. I’ll never own a castle, obviously, but I’ll also never own a Cotswolds cottage, an Edinburgh town house, a cosy studio or a two-up two-down doer-upper. Instead, over the past 10 years I’ve lived in various flatshares, with all kinds of characters: the all-night partiers, the arguing couple, the clean freak, the bill dodger and, of course, the ultimate flatmate: my mum… (View original article)
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