I know I am very lucky to be able to live alone in London, a city where property is becoming more and more financially inaccessible to so many. It is a challenge money-wise and I do have to make sacrifices each month, but it’s also one of the best decisions I ever made. Your own space can be a haven, a small corner of a busy city that’s yours and yours alone. Other times it can be more challenging – lonely, isolating and often unsettling. But for me, most of the time, it’s a place to indulge all the weird and wonderful behaviour that no one knows about. My solo living life or 'SSB' ('Secret Single Behaviour', as given to us by SATC) is not particularly chic. It’s not drinking martinis, listening to jazz, writing novels by candlelight and wafting around in a silk dressing gown. Instead, it tends to be scrambled eggs on toast, grisly crime podcasts, lying in bed until noon scrolling through Instagram and eating peanut butter with a spoon.