I have recently endured a living hell, an experience that left me vulnerable, exposed and anchorless. You see, for the past few months, I’d been woken each day before sunrise by a group of men (all wonderful, it must be noted) entering my private sanctuary and, well, knocking it to smithereens. Sledgehammers, chainsaws and drills became the soundtrack of my life as the renovation I thought would take weeks tipped into months. Filth and debris became my constant companions and privacy a wistful dream.

Sometimes to create a happy place, you must first suffer through unhappy times. Credit: Getty

There were times I was brought to tears by the overwhelming chaos, times when I couldn’t breathe through the dust or walk a clear path to anywhere. I had workmen eating their lunch on my bed, and my bathroom played host to a conga line of strangers. I had no floors at one stage. No walls at another. I went without electricity for days and without water for weeks. And when it was running, I was confined to one tap, forcing me to wash dishes in my bathtub for months. My plumber would joke........

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