crime seen ... bad smell of dog

The move is in full swing but I'm not convinced Zara's totally on board with the prospect of long, lazy days in the dreamy pastures of the inner city.

Here's her take on the new place "crime seen, bad doors, bad neiberhood, bad something I can't make out, bad smell of dog - put them all together and theeft."

At least those spelling lessons I gave her late into the night worked out well.

OK it didn't go swimmingly at first, what with those two guys wearing red shirts saying they liked the inside of our house, the police outside the party next door and the evidence that the lock had been jemmied.

By day two we were so paranoid we half expected a deranged maniac in a home knit sweater to come to the door clutching a cake full of nails screaming; "Welcome to the bad neiberhood."

But we were somewhat relieved to find out the party was a one off to celebrate some kind of American holiday and the damage to the door had, in fact been caused by the previous owner when he became locked out.

We were also prepared to overlook the presence of a pit in the basement, the desperate graffiti on the wall, the dried up blood, the presence of a small dog called Precious, the signs saying "We exchange cookies for crack" and the police officer who told us the incident tape was left up on a permanent basis because it cost the department too much to keep putting it up and taking it down again.

So really it's cool now. Suburbia is seriously overrated. Living in suburbia is like being dead except every one's too polite to tell you, you are a corpse. We all need a dose of urban grit in our oatmeal each morning to make us feel alive don't we?

And it's amazing how easy it is to win over a 6-year-old. As soon as it became apparent the new house was on Blue Bunny's route, all the doubts blew away like a police siren receding into the distance in a heat haze.