Two months ago my life was everything I thought it was supposed to be. I had found my dream job as the editor of a feminist publication. I was living happily in a beautiful art deco house-sized apartment in the inner city with my two children and dogs, and planning on a glowing future.

One month ago, in the space of a week, I lost everything. The feminist publication was sold, my job was made redundant, my beautiful apartment was too expensive, and I couldn’t find another one. While landlords are happy giving leases to single women with prestigious employment, they’re not so keen on unemployed single mothers with teen­agers and dogs. My debts, while not crushing, were more than I could pay with what little was left, and no-one even answered the job applications I sent out. Desperation has an unmistakable smell.