... all live an idyllic and suburban existence in Wallington, South London (or the Surrey Borders, if you're inclined to big yourself up in that way). Both Al and I have roots (parents) here and, despite my aspirations to trot the globe, have ended up here again: There are far worse places to bring up children - central London is 35 mins from our front door, but there are plenty of nice parks locally, with proper countryside only a few miles south.  And, of course, Wallington is in the London Borough of Sutton, which has just about the best schools in the country.  I doubt I'd get into my alma mater today, it being the most over-subscribed state school in the country.

Wallington has a real mix of housing stock - a legacy of the Second World War to some extent - but we're lucky enough to live in a Victorian (1880) end-of-terrace, with a massive cellar, big rooms, high ceilings and vast heating bills.  About twice a year we start the vacillation process and consider moving somewhere bigger... with a slightly bigger garden (not hard)... and then we decide we like it here too much, and drop the subject.  Or, possibly, we just can't be arsed to pack up all the toys.