So the house was ripped apart and stuffed full of noisy dehumidifiers and we, courtesy of the insurance were to move out for six months. My wife if you remember had acted quickly and found us a two bed flat in Eton which would be handy for our journey to work. So the removal men moved in and everything duly went into boxes. Some of the furniture had to go. The bigger items had to stay covered in dust sheets.

The removers helped us take everything over but we were to spend the next few weeks moving stuff back. We'd grossly underestimated the space we had and, until we got ourselves sorted, couldn't move (literally on occasions) for boxes. It was to be seven months (as it turned out) of never quite knowing where everything we needed was and having to root round in boxes at one of two locations.

Going back to the house meant tiptoeing through mayhem and slipping under dust sheets. The state of the house at certain stages was a horror to behold as the builders, to be fair to them had explained it would be.

We had huge problems getting our telephones and IT sorted out and things were generally frustrating.

Frustrations apart there are worse places to be exiled  than Eton. It's a pretty place, a short walk across the bridge into central Windsor and much beloved by tourists. A good place to visit but it has its disadvantages as a place to live and we were glad when we finally got back.

I need to explain Eton to those who don't know it or may not know about it. Eton is home to Britain's most famous and exclusive 'Public School'; a term that may itself need translation.

In most parts of the world 'public' school would signify a free school open to the general public. In England, for reasons lost in the mists of time it means the opposite. Public Schools are the most expensive and therefore exclusive fee paying private schools. The fees at Eton are £35,000 a year and that doesn't take into account the cost of uniforms, equipment and whatever else.

Only the very rich go there and use the expensive education to dominate public life. Of 54 British Prime Ministers to date 19 were educated at Eton including our most recent Prime Minister David Cameron. In short it is a bastion of privilege.

The pupils sense of being special and apart from the common run of humanity is reinforced by an archaic if photogenic uniform. They go about in frock coats and distinctive striped trousers. Out of uniform they are usually distinguishable by their floppy hair and expensive casual clothes.

The school also, for similar historical reasons, is considered a charity and benefits from Lottery funding. So, if you remember the London Olympics and the 2,000 metre international rowing lake; it was built with lottery money and doubles as Eton College rowing facility though they have to allow public access.

An all weather athletic track operates on a similar basis and this is before you think about the acres of playing field on which, according to Wellington, the battle of Waterloo was won.

Now the village is not the college. The village sits nearer to the river and is a patchwork of narrow streets and mostly smaller flats and dwellings. They are separate places but the school is huge, probably as big as the village and dominates it. You gradually realise many of the residents have college connections. The narrow Eton pavements are usually crowded with tourists. If they don't force you off the pavements the floppy haired scholars will. They are not rude, simply not very aware anyone else exists.

The worst thing about living in Eton is the parking. The streets are very narrow and space for cars limited. You get to the point of not wanting to move your car in case you can't park when you get back. And though Windsor is just a pleasant stroll across the bridge; it's a pedestrian only bridge and if you need a car for the weekly shop or whatever it's actually a long drive round.

Eton can feel at once under siege from tourists and cut off and there's that sense of not really belonging because you don't belong or have any allegiance to the school.