I KNOW I should be grateful that The Projects Manager has so far created a safe living space for me, by this I mean I won't explode or electrocute myself this week.

And yes I have an oven, a fridge, heat and hot water.

However, I am slowly suffocating under clutter while I wait patiently for my cupboards to be crafted and of a cold, dark night I can be found huddled by the eyesore fan heater, instead of my fire - I am almost unrecognisable given the impact this is having on my skin.

I can't even reach the back of my garden, without risking life or limb as I negotiate a ten foot cliff face. It is not funny, especially now it has stopped raining and is unseasonably warm.

He is trying his best. He claims he has a "demanding" project, which has been taking much of his time, so occasionally I receive a text message.

"I haven't forgotten you. Ordered sink."

I, along with most journalists, am not known for my patience so I am finding this whole process gruelling. At this rate, I could appear on Channel 4's The Hoard Squad before my clutter is cleared. Bah.

I hope he doesn't belt me over the head with a power pool when he reads this and abandons me and my cottage altogether...