One of the most brilliant flashing motorway signs I ever saw was in France on the road from Paris down south. “Restez Zen” flashed above us in big neon letters as we sat in a traffic jam on our way home.

It is this attitude I am trying very hard to adopt as I come to terms with the fact that our dream apartment has fallen through.

There is something almost lyrical in the inevitability of it. We were due to move next week; we had organised the money (well, almost); I was just about able to cope with leaving the beach villa in Dubai as I thought we were going to have our very own kitchen; my stepchildren Hugo and Julia are coming to stay soon and I was relieved we weren’t going to have to put them on the floor in our hotel bedroom; it was five minutes from the school; every time we drove past it the children shouted “there’s our house”; it is a one-minute walk from the beach; it was all furnished thus saving us that hassle….the list goes on.

But the landlord has got wind of our contact leaving the country and wants to do everything by the book. So our contact has to stay on for another two months at which point his contract will be terminated and the landlord will be free to hike the rent up to a price we will not be able to afford.

Anyway, onwards and upwards, or as Homer Simpson says “forward not backwards, upwards not forwards and always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom”. Or failing that: Restez Zen.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008