One might be forgiven for thinking the room was a tawdry boudoir, so lurid were its dark pink walls. However the large black poster on the wall gave it away: “Come into my lair” threatened a smirking cartoon monster with twinkling eyes, “We have cookies!” The room was tiny, with scarcely any room to swing a fish, never mind a cat. A practical, white single bed filled one side, its compact built-in drawers overflowing with clothing, while opposite a small cupboard formed an alcove for a minute desk which was bedecked with homework books, scraps of paper covered with colourful doodles, a broken MP3 player and a half eaten biscuit. The tiny paper bin beneath the desk spilled its contents onto the unseen green carpet: a paper rubbish trail that morphed seamlessly into heaps of shed clothing. A large white, wooden-framed window completed the scene, opening generously onto a view of the Kent Weald valley below, lush with green, hedge-rowed fields, occasional trees and dopey-eyed sheep.

The pink duvet stirred and a little tousled head emerged sleepily from an orderly dream world.